


By My Sword

by AsperJasper



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Archery, Dragons, M/M, Swordfighting, i didn't name drop that but she's smalls, including multi chapters, so please validate me and leave me comments please, the girl with the pies is smalls, this is my longest fic ever, this is the product of a month of work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21614143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsperJasper/pseuds/AsperJasper
Summary: Most of Davey’s life as a prince was easy.He had his duties, sure. Lessons to take, ceremonies to attend, meetings to sit in on. Most of them were at least fairly easy, if not rivetingly interesting.In fact, he liked the lessons. He’d always enjoyed reading, and learning in general, and he’d never minded spending his mornings tucked away in the library or with a tutor, learning history or studying policies or practicing his mapmaking or whatever else he was told to do. He didn’t hate meetings as much as either of his siblings, either, although they did get pretty boring, pretty often. Ceremonies weren’t the most fun, but they were tolerable.In fact, there was really only one part of his life that he hated without a doubt.Sword fighting lessons.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Comments: 44
Kudos: 193
Collections: THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH





	By My Sword

Most of Davey’s life as a prince was easy.

He had his duties, sure. Lessons to take, ceremonies to attend, meetings to sit in on. Most of them were at least fairly easy, if not rivetingly interesting.

In fact, he liked the lessons. He’d always enjoyed reading, and learning in general, and he’d never minded spending his mornings tucked away in the library or with a tutor, learning history or studying policies or practicing his mapmaking or whatever else he was told to do. He didn’t hate meetings as much as either of his siblings, either, although they did get pretty boring, pretty often. Ceremonies weren’t the most fun, but they were tolerable.

In fact, there was really only one part of his life that he hated without a doubt.

Sword fighting lessons.

He was terrible with his sword work. He knew. Every teacher he’d ever had knew. His siblings knew.

It didn’t help that his older sister had always been decent, so he was expected to be at least as good as her.

And more recently it certainly didn’t help that his little brother was a prodigy, already surpassing Davey’s skill only two years into his lessons.

He’d lost. To his twelve-year-old brother.

Who had laughed at him and been barely out of breath after knocking Davey’s sword out of his hand.

And now, as a result.

As a punishment, really.

He was getting a whole new instructor. Some guy who was supposed to be the best of the best, the kind of guy anybody should be lucky to have as a teacher.

Also the kind of guy who warmed up wearing some ridiculous, intricate scaled leather helmet.

That was Davey’s first impression.

The tall helmet that looked like it might be modeled after a dragon. It covered his entire face, and looked completely out of place, since the only other armor he was wearing were simple cuffs around his lower arms and wrists and a simple leather vest that closed with straps.

His second impression was just how skilled this guy really was. He was warming up against one of the instructors Davey knew, and he was winning easily. Both of them were using real swords, flashing in the sun, and Davey could see the effort on the instructor’s face.

Even without being able to see the new guy’s face, it was obvious he wasn’t trying nearly as hard. He was just moving easier, like he didn’t have to think about it and it wasn’t wearing him out, even as he blocked every stroke coming at him. He moved effortlessly and quickly and gracefully and like it was the most natural thing in the entire world.

After a few minutes, the instructor Davey knew lost his sword. They shook hands and the loser shook his head, but he was smiling. He then gestured towards Davey, and the helmeted new guy turned towards him.

The helmet had slits for eyes, and Davey could see him looking. He had intense, dark eyes that glittered in the shadows cast by the helmet.

“Your highness,” he said, bending slightly at the waist. The way he said it let Davey know the title didn’t impress him. “Ready to start?”

If their first spar had been an actual fight, Davey would have been dead.

The new instructor attacked without warning. His sword flashed towards Davey’s chest and Davey barely managed to block it. In fact, he didn’t even technically block it. It skated off his own blade and skidded against the leather pad on Davey’s arm.

He’d looked fast when Davey had watched him fight the other instructor.

He was impossibly fast to actually try and defend against. In thirty seconds, Davey’s sword was on the ground and he had a sword pressed gently against his throat.

“We’ve got some work to do.” The eyes behind the helmet seemed to be staring directly into Davey’s soul, like this guy could read him as easily as a book. “Come back tomorrow.”

When Davey came back the next day, the helmet was gone.

The new instructor was younger than he’d expected.

A bit shorter without the helmet, too.

And the kind of person Davey was probably going to have to work pretty hard at not thinking about, no matter how much they did or didn’t end up getting along, because he just had that kind of face.

When Davey got to the training field, he was practicing against a post wrapped in rope, flashing through combinations Davey knew as the absolute basics, but a million times faster. He added extra strokes, too, without losing the rhythm of his hits, his blade flashing in what would almost definitely be lethal, almost instant hits against the rope.

Davey was very, very, very far from an expert swordsman, but he knew what good bladework looked like.

This wasn’t even good bladework, good wasn’t a strong enough word to describe it, this was great. Fantastic. Legendary. Incredible. Awe-striking.

“You’re getting lessons from Jack, huh?” One of the other boys on the field for training asked. He sounded jealous.

“I’m getting lessons from him, yeah.” They both watched him silently.

Jack.

At least Davey had a name for him, now.

He had pretty long hair that fell in curls around his neck. It was tied back from his face with a bright green ribbon tied in a knot, with ends that tangled with the hair on the back of his head. His forehead was crinkled in concentration, and Davey was sure he had no concept of anything other than himself, his sword, and the post.

“You learn from him, you learn from the best,” The boy said.

“Yeah. I can tell.”

After a few more seconds, he shook his head and wandered off to wherever he was practicing.

“Your highness.” Jack dropped the tip of his sword out of the offensive when he finally stopped moving and turned all the way to face him. Just like yesterday, he said the title like he didn’t quite like the way it felt in his mouth, and there was a spark of something in his eyes when he gave the tiniest of bows, something that might have been humor or it might have been disdain.

Either way.

Davey was already having to fight off thoughts about Jack’s jawline and how deep and dark his eyes looked and definitely how he pushed his fingers back through his hair and tucked the curls behind his ears.

He looked a little bit like one of the paintings on the walls of the great hall telling the stories of the great warriors who had defended the kingdom in eras past, knights in shining armor and great kings and mythical heroes.

Or maybe Davey was just distracted by the fact that he was very attractive.

Shouldn’t his parents have known better than to assign him an instructor as pretty as this?

The answer was yes. Yes, they should have.

“You have terrible technique,” Jack said, interrupting Davey’s thoughts. “Your grip is too tight, your balance is terrible, and your movements are clumsy. It’s no wonder you lost to his little highness.”

This time, when Jack said the royal title, Davey was positive there was humor in his eyes, but he wasn’t sure if it was at the thought of Davey being beaten by his little brother or the joke he made.

“Thanks so much.”

“If you can’t take critique, you shouldn’t be learning swordplay.” The very edge of Jack’s mouth tilted up in a slight smile. “All of those things are fixable. Draw your sword.”

Jack’s sword went back up into the offensive and he watched Davey draw his own.

“One smooth motion. You need to be able to get it out of the scabbard in a second. Do it again.”

Davey sighed and slid the sword back inside the sheath and tried again.

“Again.”

Davey drew his sword six more times before Jack finally nodded.

“Did you feel the difference? It didn’t catch, and you came out of the movement in ready position.”

And Davey did feel the difference. His elbow was in the right place, when he’d pulled the sword completely free there wasn’t a pause in his movement, and he’d naturally fallen into ready position once it was free.

“Relax your hand. If you hold it that tightly, everything you do will be too stiff. Not too loose, though, or you’ll drop it.” Jack watched Davey adjust his grip until he finally nodded again. “Feel that. Remember exactly how it feels. That’s how you need to hold your sword always. Now attack me.”

“What?”

“Attack me.”

“With my real sword.”

“You aren’t going to be able to touch me. Attack me.” Again, the corner of Jack’s mouth tilted upwards in a cocky half-smile.

With a sigh, Davey jabbed his sword forward.

Almost too fast for him to see, Jack whipped the tip of his own blade in a tight circle, trapping the flat of Davey’s underneath his own and making Davey have to let go when his own grip twisted and was forced down painfully.

“You didn’t even look for an opening, and I left one on purpose. Never start without thinking.”

“You told me-“

“I told you to attack, not to shut off your brain. Do it again. Find the opening I’m leaving for you.”

For almost two hours, Jack made Davey make the tiniest of adjustments while doing the same thing over and over again. Davey attacked, Jack pointed out a single mistake and had him correct it, and then it repeated with a new mistake.

“That’s enough for today,” Jack finally said, taking a step back and looking Davey up and down like he was taking in his disheveled, sweaty, frustrated appearance. “Come back tomorrow. Wear riding boots.”

That night, Jack came into the great hall as Davey was finishing his dinner.

He didn’t even glance up at the high table. He entered from the back of the hall and sat down in a group of other swordplay instructors, and Davey saw him actually smile for the first time.

It changed his entire face. His eyebrows lifted and his eyes sparkled and Davey could tell he was staring, but who had decided to let a man that pretty have a smile like that?

He hadn’t once relaxed through their entire lesson, Davey realized. He’d been holding himself tense and ready to move the entire time.

Now, as he piled food on his plate, he looked twenty times more comfortable than he had. He tilted back in his chair and laughed and seemed to be telling animated stories, illustrating points with his hands.

“You’re staring,” Sarah sat down next to Davey and pushed her elbow into his side. “Who’re you staring at?”

“Nobody.”

“Somebody.” Sarah leaned against his side and scanned the other people in the room. “Not the noble kids, you’re over all of them you’ve ever liked according to your diary the last time I read it.”

“I don’t keep a diary.”

“That’s what you want me to think.” Sarah laughed. “So who is it in the back? The older men? No, you have better taste than that. That leaves the four young men sitting in the far back…let me guess, the one with the hair? Oh, based on that expression, yes, the one with the hair. Who is he?”

“His name is Jack.”

“Jack…your new sword instructor?”

“Does everybody but me know who he is?”

“Davey, he’s kind of the best swordsman in the entire kingdom. He won his first tournament when he was seventeen, and he hasn’t lost since. The only reason you don’t know who he is is your stubborn refusal to learn anything about swordplay because you hate things you aren’t immediately good at.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, Davey, yes it is.” Sarah sighed and started piling food on her own plate. “Maybe having an attractive teacher will finally get you to improve.”

Davey wore riding boots to the practice field the next day, though he had no idea why.

Jack was wearing a pair, too.

“You have a horse, right?” Was his greeting when he saw Davey.

“Yes.”

“Good. We’re going to the stables first.”

He started walking, and Davey followed him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there, your highness.”

“You can’t just take me wherever you want, you know.”

“Sure I can. I’m your teacher, you have to follow my lesson plan.”

Davey was pretty sure he heard a smile in Jack’s voice.

“I’m a prince. I have to have-“

“If you’re about to say a guard, keep in mind who you’re talking to.” The smile was gone, and it was replaced with cocky frustration. “Nobody is going to touch you, your royal highness.”

The other times Davey had heard Jack use a royal title, he hadn’t been able to pinpoint what the undertone was. Whatever it had been before, this time was obviously disdain. Jack didn’t care whatsoever that Davey was a prince. All he saw was somebody terrible with a sword that he was tasked with teaching.

Davey didn’t say anything else on the walk to the stables, or while they each saddled a horse.

Jack’s horse was tall and sturdy, a big, brown, true battle-horse that looked like it could run for days. Jack rubbed its nose gently before starting to put all of the tack on.

Davey’s horse was white. He was tall and graceful and if the kingdom went to war, he wouldn’t be the horse Davey rode into battle. His name was Willow.

By the time Davey finished tightening all the straps he needed to tighten, Jack was up on his horse’s back, looking down at him.

“At least you know how to do it yourself,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Follow me, then.”

The guards at the gate of the castle grounds didn’t even look twice at them leaving once they saw Jack was with him. They just watched them go.

Jack led Davey through town and towards the woods, veering off the road and eventually getting them onto a hunting trail that was barely clear enough for the horses to walk on. After what must have been almost an hour, he finally stopped.

They’d been riding in silence, and Jack still didn’t speak when he swung down and tied his reins to the tree closest to him, looking at Davey like he expected him to do the same.

“You know how to swim, right?” He asked abruptly when Davey was done tying his horse up.

“Yes, why?”

“In case you fail the lesson.” A ghost of a smile flashed across Jack’s face. He tilted his head for Davey to follow and started walking.

“What are you going to make me do?”

“We’re working on balance today.”

Jack led him to a clearing with the river running through it. It opened into a wide pool in the middle of the clearing, and Davey immediately guessed what Jack was planning, because there was a tree that had fallen across the pool.

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s one of your biggest problems. You’re either up all the way on your toes or all the way back on your heels. A gust of wind could knock you over. Walk across the log.” Jack put his hands on his hips and stared at Davey. “Take off your boots and walk across the log. The water’s deep if you fall. Try not to.”

Davey had a feeling that however stubborn he was capable of being, which was very, Jack would manage to be more stubborn, so he sighed and started tugging his boots off.

“Might want to take off all the extras, too.”

Davey’s overcoat, belt, sword, leather armor, and circlet crown got added to his boots on the ground. 

The log was more slippery than it looked. It was covered in moss, and the moss was wet, and Davey could tell it would be harder to get across that it might seem to be. He turned and looked back at Jack, who was now sitting on the ground, leaning back against a rock. He pulled an apple out of his pocket and took a big bite, watching Davey.

“Go on.”

The second Davey had both feet on the log, he knew he wouldn’t make it all the way across. It was slightly too narrow for comfort, cold, slimy, and Davey knew he was going to slip.

He made it halfway across before sliding off the side, scraping his leg on the bark of the log, and fell into the water. It was cold, it took his breath away, and there were a few terrifying seconds of complete disorientation where he didn’t know which way was up, and then he hit the bottom and was able to push himself up and drag himself out of the pool.

Jack was very obviously composing himself after laughing at Davey’s fall, not even bothering to wipe the smile off his face. He looked a lot more like he had at dinner, and Davey decided he wanted to get him to relax all the way and find out what he was really like when he wasn’t playing the part of a hyper-competent, tough teacher.

“How’d that feel?”

“Cold. Hurt my leg.” Davey could tell he looked like a wet cat. Probably an angry wet cat.

“You aren’t a very graceful faller, that’s for sure. Try again.”

“I’m soaking wet!”

“Guess the stakes are lower this time, then, aren’t they? Find your center of balance.” Jack took another bite of his apple and relaxed back against his rock again. “The sooner you make it across the log, the sooner we start the next part of the lesson.”

“There’s a next part?”

“Unless you spend all day without making it across the log once.”

Davey sighed and got up on the log again.

“Don’t go up on your toes so much.”

Again, Davey fell about halfway across and ended up in the water. It wasn’t as disorienting this time, and he recovered much quicker.

“Don’t use your heels so much, either.” Again, Jack had obviously enjoyed watching Davey fall into the water. “Find your center.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Davey said coldly, trying to wring some water out of his shirt.

“Stand naturally, right where you are. Arms at your side, feet slightly apart, relaxed.” Jack sat forward, elbows on his knees, chewing another bite of apple loudly. “Can you feel how balanced you are right now? Your center should be close to your stomach. You should be able to feel it, it’s where your balance comes from. The trick is not letting it disappear once you start walking.”

He watched Davey step up on the log for a third time.

“Bet an apple you won’t make it across.” Davey heard him say just loud enough for him to hear.

He was very tempted to make a very undignified hand gesture. It didn’t matter how attractive Jack was, he was reveling far too much in Davey’s misery.

He was right, though, not even halfway across this time Davey’s feet slipped out from under him and he fell. This time, unfortunately, they went different directions and he first hit the log in the most unfortunate place possible, knocking the breath out of him.

He was proud of himself for not making a noise when the log hit between his legs and he slid sideways into the water, but he did immediately suck water in when he hit it, and he came up coughing.

He was surprised to feel himself being pulled out of the water onto the ground by a pair of very noticeably strong arms.

“You all right, highness?” Jack was leaning over his head, looking concerned, and for the first time, there wasn’t anything behind the title. He pushed Davey’s hair back from his eyes and watched him cough.

“I’m fine,” Davey finally managed to get out.

Pain was still radiating from where the log had hit in between his legs, and it didn’t exactly feel good to inhale water, either, but he’d recover.

“Take a break, your highness. Have an apple.” Jack stood up and offered Davey a hand, pulling him to his feet. His sleeves were wet almost to his shoulders and he pulled a second apple from a different pocket than the first had come from.

“You don’t have to call me that. You can just call me Davey,” Davey said after a few seconds of silence broken only by both of them taking a bite.

“You're a prince. I’m not. I have to use your title,” Jack said stiffly, frowning at his apple.

“Nobody else uses my title.”

“No offense, your highness, but the only other people you know are noble-born. They can get away with a lot more than I can.”

“You’re not-“

“I’m not anything like any of you, and I never will be.” Jack took another bite of his apple. He was staring at the ground, and he sounded halfway between nonchalant and angry. “You, your highness, are a prince, and that means I owe you a certain amount of respect, including your proper title when I address you. That was made very clear to me.”

“But not enough respect to not laugh at me when I fall.”

Davey saw Jack’s lip twitch.

“It was funny.”

“I’m telling you that you can just call me Davey.”

“And I’m telling you that I’m not getting myself in trouble over it, your highness.”

“There’s nobody here but us.”

“And habits are easy to form and hard to break. Feeling better? Get back on the log.” Jack took Davey’s apple out of his hand and set it on the rock he was sitting against. Davey didn’t miss the sudden change of subject or the suddenly sour look on Jack’s face. He’d hit a sore spot, obviously, and he wasn’t even quite sure exactly what it was. Maybe it was where he came from, or maybe it was just Davey pushing him to do something he didn’t want to do.

Either way, Davey sighed and got back up on the log for a fourth attempt.

When he fell this time, he managed to keep his legs together and mostly keep his composure when he hit the water.

The fifth time, he made it two-thirds of the way across, the furthest so far, and the sixth he made it so far that he banged his knees on the ground and hissed a quiet curse word because the water wasn’t deep enough.

Jack hadn’t laughed at him again. He’d finished his apple and was just watching quietly from his seat on the ground.

On the seventh try, Davey made it all the way across. It wasn’t a graceful dismount; he ended up with another new scrape on his knees and dirt in his mouth, but he didn’t end up in the water.

“Once more. Land on your feet on the ground and you’re done.” All of the humor Jack had displayed earlier, the friendliness and little bit of relaxation, was gone. The nerve Davey had touched had clearly messed up any chance he had at getting Jack to relax into the person he’d seen at dinner the night before.

Davey got up and walked across the log, this time managing to jump off the other end and land on his feet. He’d found his center, he realized, he could feel where his balance was coming from and that was why he’d managed to make it across.

“Put on your armor and sword.”

Leather armor on top of wet clothes was not the most comfortable thing Davey had ever done. It took longer than usual, too, even though he only had a couple pieces to pull on. Bracers for his arms, a small chest plate, and very simple wrist guards.

When he fastened his belt around his waist, Jack was standing in ready position. Jack watched him draw his sword and nodded, and then he attacked.

Davey lasted slightly longer this time than he had the first day. Maybe forty seconds instead of thirty. Jack jabbed him in the chest with the point of his sword.

“Dead. Watch your left side, you leave it too open. Again.”

Thirty-four seconds, Davey counted. This time, Jack’s sword rested on top of Davey’s head.

“Dead. Again.”

Davey’s sword was in the dirt, Jack’s blade pressed against his throat.

“Dead. Don’t drop your guard just because somebody swings low. Block the stroke and get it back up. Again.”

Davey’s arm was twisted painfully, his sword trapped against Jack’s hilt when Jack took an aggressive step forward. Davey felt a little sting just below his chest plate.

“Don’t assume the only weapon in play is a sword. Dead. Stabbed through the heart.” Jack stepped back and, in a flash of movement Davey almost didn’t see, tucked the dagger he’d been pressing into Davey’s chest into a sheath Davey couldn’t see on his hip.

“That wasn’t fair.”

“You think a real fight would be fair? In a real fight, that would have hurt a lot worse. Anyone with an advantage is going to use it. Always prepare for the worst.”

“Aren’t you an optimist,” Davey muttered.

“Optimism doesn’t keep you alive,” Jack said. His eyes were hard and intense and Davey had a feeling that the sudden harshness of this lesson could still be traced back to the conversation that had made him tense in the first place. “Again.”

Jack’s sword rasped against the length of Davey’s, caught the hilt, and pushed Davey’s sword to the ground again.

“Your grip needs to be stronger than that. Not stiff, but strong. Again.”

By the time Jack finally slid his sword back into the scabbard, Davey’s clothes were completely dry and the sun was starting to set, lighting everything in green and gold. Jack stuck out his hand.

“You improved, your highness. You have a long way to go. But for three days, I can see quite a difference.”

Davey shook Jack’s hand, and Jack gave him a tiny smile. Not as relaxed as he had been at dinner, or even earlier in the day, but it was better than the stony face he’d had on for most of the afternoon.

Jack led him back to the horses, and they started back towards the castle.

“Want to stop for dinner?” Jack asked when they got out of the trees.

“Where?”

“We have to pass through town anyway.” Jack shrugged. “I’m getting dinner.”

Davey expected Jack to stop at one of the taverns. Instead, he smiled and called out and suddenly a girl about his age was next to their horses holding a big basket that steamed when she opened it.

“Want one?” Jack offered again, and when Davey didn’t answer, he decided for him. “We’ll take two. Thanks, Snipes.”

“Anything for you, fancy boy.”

“No more fancy than you, never will be.” Jack’s speech had taken on the rougher accent of the common people, and he was relaxed again.

“Take two on me, then. Weasel won’t know the difference on a Thursday.”

“Nothing’s changed here, huh?”

“Nothing but you suddenly pretending to be a noble.”

“Hey, watch your mouth, doncha see who’s riding right next to me?”

The girl suddenly turned to look at Davey for the first time and she blushed before giving him a sloppy curtsy.

“Your highness, I apologize-“

“No need,” Davey replied.

She kept her head down and held her basket up. Jack reached in and pulled two medium-sized pies out and handed one to Davey.

“Wish the weasel my best, huh, Sniper?” Jack called behind him when they started to ride away.

“He’ll be so glad to hear from you!”

“Who was that?” Davey asked once he was sure she’d faded back into the background.

“A friend,” Jack said. His voice had shifted back into the accent Davey knew from him, the same stiff, precise accent pretty much everyone used at court. An educated accent.

“Did you use to live here?”

“For a little while.”

“Where are you from, then?”

“Your highness, no offense, but what does it matter to you?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Don’t be,” Jack said coldly. “I’m your teacher. Not your friend.”

With that, he kicked his horse and moved about fifteen paces ahead of Davey and stayed there until they were inside the castle gates. He was already almost done taking care of his horse when Davey got to the stables, and he didn’t look at him.

Davey didn’t quite understand why Jack had flipped his attitude so suddenly and so harshly.

It was mean. That was a mean thing to say.

And most of the day, Jack had been friendly. Even when Davey had bothered him in the woods, he’d cheered up again. He’d gotten Davey food. He’d laughed at Davey. Shook his hand and complimented him.

And then he’d ended the day by declaring they weren’t friends, seemingly because Davey had asked where he was from.

He was confusing.

Davey’s feelings were hurt.

He didn’t understand why such a simple question would prompt Jack to react that way.

The next day, Jack was wearing his ridiculous dragon helmet again.

His hair was tucked up in it, not a single curl escaping, and he was in full coverage leather armor, too. It was all dragon-themed, intricate scales burned into the surface and some kind of other design on the breastplate, too.

He couldn’t identify what that was, exactly, because Jack was fighting three people at once when Davey got to the practice field.

He was moving impossibly quickly, balanced on the balls of his feet like a cat, and it seemed like he could see all three blades coming at him at all times. He spun and a sword skated off his own blade before being pushed aside just in time for him to block another one coming at him from the other side.

In a move so lightning quick Davey didn’t even see it happen, just the effects, Jack’s sword jumped from his left hand to his right as he blocked the third sword, ducking under the first as it came back around to swing at his chest. He didn’t miss a beat as he continued fighting right-handed with just as much skill as he had had been with his left.

With a very impressive swing that changed directions halfway there, Jack disarmed one of his opponents, sending one of three swords clanging to the ground. The second sword ended up in the dirt after being hit with the same move Jack had used on Davey before, catching the flat of the blades together and forcing down until the other person was forced to either let go or have their fingers break.

And then it was Jack versus one other person. Davey wasn’t sure who it was, because they were also wearing a helmet that covered their entire face, but they were good. If they had been against any other person on the field, they would have won easily.

Jack made winning look easy. He stepped in close and their swords clashed together in the shriek that only came from steel on steel. He spun, and his sword jumped back to his left hand as he did, and he used the opening left by the unexpected side change to get in even closer and catch his opponent’s blade and twist quickly, flipping it up and over and out of their hand.

In one quick move, Jack slid his own sword back into its sheath and held out a hand to the last person he’d beaten. He said something Davey couldn’t quite make out, and all three people he’d been fighting laughed.

He tugged his helmet off and sent his hair tumbling down almost to his shoulders, and Davey forgot that he was upset with Jack from yesterday because he once again seemed to embody a mythological hero and was stunningly beautiful and Davey had to catch his breath.

It wasn’t fair to give him an instructor so attractive who was also so impossible to figure out.

“Your highness,” Jack turned and greeted him. His shoulders tensed and the easy smile he’d had when he ended the fight disappeared and Davey was forced to remember that Jack was his teacher, not his friend.

The other people wandered off to whatever they were supposed to be doing. Jack started pulling at the straps securing his armor, shedding pieces of it. He piled everything other than his chest plate and arm guards neatly in the grass.

Davey could make out the design burned into the chest plate now, a stylized dragon with open wings over his heart. He’d obviously really embraced that theme. Wholeheartedly.

Without another word, Jack drew his sword and tilted his head at Davey, telling him to begin.

There wasn’t much communication in this lesson.

Jack beat Davey, told him in one sentence something to improve, and they started again. For two hours, Davey lost, picked up his sword and tried again.

And then Jack put his sword away, nodded, and turned away. He picked up his pile of armor and left without another word, and Davey was again left to wonder what exactly he’d done to make Jack act so differently than he had when he’d been so relaxed in the woods.

He found out at dinner.

He sat at the high table, even during informal dinners, which were every night during the week. Every time he’d seen Jack come in, he’d entered from the door farthest away from the high table and sat at the table closest to that door.

Davey hadn’t thought much about it. Jack was sitting with the people he knew, the other people who spent all day every day at the training fields.

The people who sat closer to the high table were the nobles, generally speaking. Davey knew all of them, liked most of them, and could hear them talking when they ate. Mostly, they talked about nothing. The prettiest girls, the most handsome boys, the kinds of things they were getting up to in their free time.

So hearing them talk about Jack like he was some kind of waking nightmare was new.

“I hear he comes from nothing.”

“He comes in here like everyone should just accept that he belongs.”

“As if winning a few duels means he fits in.”

“Have you seen that ridiculous armor? He’s overcompensating for his background.”

“When he talks you can hear it. He’s trying to trick people into forgetting who he is.”

“And the way he interacts with Prince David, as if that’s anything real at all.”

A few separate conversations among a few separate groups of people, all talking about Jack. None of them liked him. They all thought he was some kind of fake, that he wasn’t who he said he was or that he was trying to force his way into somewhere he didn’t belong.

Davey hadn’t picked up on any of that. At all.

He’d noticed the accent shift when Jack had talked to the girl in town, but that didn’t mean he was faking anything except an accent, and what was wrong with that? Davey knew for a fact that more people than just Jack were faking their accents, and plenty of them came from noble families but had just grown up someplace other than court. Putting on an accent didn’t make somebody a liar.

Jack was very competent. He was the best swordsman Davey had ever seen. He probably could have gotten away with trying to move up the social ladder, if he really was as low down on it as the others seemed to believe he was, especially if he’d been as successful in tournaments as Sarah said and especially since he was the one teaching Davey.

It bothered Davey to hear people talk about Jack like that. There was no reason for it. Why should the care, for one thing, and what gave them the right to decide the kind of person Jack was, anyway?

He paid more attention over the next few days.

The people who watched Jack warm-up, the ones who fought him and shook his hand when they lost, who laughed at his jokes and earned his smiles, none of them were noble. Not a single one. They were all common people, who came into the castle grounds to work or train but didn’t live there, didn’t have any influence on court politics. Plenty of them were well off, but none of them were actually nobles.

The nobles stood off to the side. If they paid any attention to Jack at all, it was with a look on their faces like they were staring at a pile of horse dung with a sword sticking out of it. They ignored him, didn’t talk to him, and once, when Jack reached for the rack of armor to grab Davey a pair of gloves because he’d forgotten his own, they even blocked his way.

Davey saw the flash of anger on Jack’s face but it was quickly replaced with passive acceptance, even if it was still visible in his eyes. He waited for the group that had blocked him to move before trying again.

And once Davey noticed that, he noticed the way they treated the other non-nobles, too. He was ashamed that he hadn’t noticed it before, but they acted the same way to them that they did to Jack.

It was awful, and Davey suddenly understood why Jack had been so harsh with him, because once he started noticing how they treated Jack all the time, he noticed that it was even worse if Jack acted friendly towards Davey in front of them at all.

Six weeks into their lessons together, Jack told Davey to wear riding boots and meet him in the stables the next day.

Jack looked more relaxed than he had when Davey found him in the stables. He’d already gotten both his own horse and Davey’s ready, and he gave Davey a tiny smile.

“We’ll be out late,” he said, tossing a full backpack at Davey. “So I hope you didn’t have any plans tonight.”

“None that mattered.”

“Good answer.”

They rode out to the forest again, but past the place they’d stopped before, until Jack finally stopped.

He looked excited, and Davey wasn’t sure if that made him nervous or not. It probably meant Davey was either going to love or hate whatever he had planned.

Davey just about had a heart attack when Jack whistled loudly and somebody answered.

Two minutes later somebody popped out of the woods next to them.

“Jack Kelly! You son of a bitch! Why has it been so long?”

“Because some of us have more important things to do than playing fairy in the trees all day.” Jack’s accent disappeared like it had when he’d talked to the girl in town, and he swung off his horse literally into the arms of the guy who’d appeared from the woods.

“Like you don’t wish you still got to be out here all the time.”

“My new gig’s pretty sweet if you can’t tell by the caliber of gentlefolk I’ve got riding next to me.”

“Oh-ho-ho, your royal highness, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Unlike the girl in town, this guy didn’t seem phased at all when he recognized Davey. In fact, he seemed genuinely delighted, bowing deeply without fully letting go of Jack, who he was still hugging around the waist with one arm.

He was dressed like a hunter, in practical, sturdy clothes dyed varying shades of green. He had a bow and a quiver full of arrows slung over his back, and a bracer on his arm that showed they weren’t just for show, he was using them. He had a smile so wide it looked like it hurt, and he looked Davey up and down like he was sizing him up.

“Ever shoot a bow, your highness?” Jack asked, a grin of his own spreading across his face.

Davey decided that he liked this version of Jack much better than the version he usually saw. Jack with the rough accent and relaxed shoulders, one arm around this new guy’s shoulders, genuinely smiling. Even if he was about to put Davey through a long day of training that Davey wouldn’t understand, this version of Jack was better.

It was the version Davey had seen glimpses of before, at dinner and in the moments right after he dueled somebody on the training field when he laughed.

This was the first time it was the version the was let out around Davey. Even if Jack had still used Davey’s title instead of his name.

“A few times,” Davey said, and the new guy’s grin got impossibly wider.

“This is Race. Race is to archery what I am to swordplay, and today we’re taking a break from swordplay.”

“Again, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I was hoping we’d get the chance to meet since Jacky got the job.”

“Get off the horse so we can get to work,” Jack said, tugging the reins away from Davey and tying them to the tree he was closest to before leading his own horse a little bit away and tying him up, too. Davey slid to the ground and Race disappeared for a minute before coming back holding a second bow.

It was different than the one on his back, curving backward at the tips instead of being one continuous curve.

“How much experience do you have with a bow?” He asked, again looking Davey up and down.

“I shoot pretty often.”

“Taken lessons?”

“A few.”

“How good are you?”

“I usually hit the target.”

“Bullseye?”

“Sometimes.”

“Hmm. Let’s see.”

Race tossed the second bow at Davey. He caught it, barely, and took the arrow Race handed to him.

“See the tree with the missing branch? Hit the branch stump.”

Jack sat down on the ground, his back against a tree, and watched, still smiling.

Davey nocked the arrow and drew the bow. Race inhaled through his teeth loud enough for him to hear. Davey tuned him out and focused on the branch stump he was supposed to hit. It was about thirty feet away, not too bad, and it was big enough that he was kind of confident he could hit it.

So of course, he missed. He hit the tree, at least, he was better with a bow than with a sword in general, but he didn’t hit the branch stump.

“Okay. Well. Not terrible.”

“Give a demonstration!” Jack called from his seat. “Show him how it’s really done! Get over here, your highness, watch him shoot!”

Race laughed but waved for Davey to go over by Jack and watch.

Jack hadn’t been joking when he said Race was to archery what he was to swordplay.

Race nocked, drew, and shot faster than Davey could see. In fifteen seconds, there were four thunks as arrows went crashing into the tree, and when Davey looked closer, every single one had hit the branch stump, all in the center just far enough apart to not hit each other.

He turned quickly and Davey yelped when an arrow shot past him with a hiss and thudded into the tree barely an inch above Jack’s head.

Jack didn’t even flinch. Instead, he laughed.

“Take that arrow,” Race said. “And come back over here. By the head, by the head, you’ll bend it!”

When Davey drew back this time, Race stepped in behind him and made physical adjustments. Lowered his elbow, switched his fingers, kicked his feet into a different stance.

“Shoot like that,” Race said, and when Davey let the arrow go, it was much closer to the branch stump than the first one had been. “He’s not bad, Jacky. Not gonna be winning any awards but he isn’t gonna kill anyone he doesn’t mean to, either.”

“Think you can show him your miraculous ways in just one day?”

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Davey had no idea how a day of archery lessons was supposed to do for him, but it was a break from the hours and hours of sword fighting he’d been doing for the past few weeks. They weren’t exactly similar disciplines.

Part of him was pretty sure it was just an excuse for Jack to spend a day with Race. They were obviously very close, to the point where if they had looked more alike Davey would have said they were brothers. They didn’t look alike at all, though, beyond the fact that they both had curly hair. Race kept his much shorter than Jack did. Race was taller than Jack, too, by at least two inches, and he had lighter skin and eyes.

And his resting expression seemed to be a smile that looked like he was planning something, versus Jack’s neutral frown.

Jack wasn’t frowning today, though. Every time Davey looked at him, he had a least a slight smile on his face. He and Race exchanged jokes constantly, jokes that didn’t make any sense to Davey but often cost them several minutes of practice time to side-splitting laughter from Jack and Race.

They kept referencing people, or at least Davey thought they were people, and stories that sounded kind of fake but they switched back and forth between who was telling them with such ease that Davey was sure they weren’t.

It was a very relaxed environment, and he actually did hit the target more consistently by the time the sun was setting and Race collected all his arrows and put them back in his quiver.

“Coming for dinner, Jacky?” He asked once he had all of his equipment gathered back up.

“I was hoping you’d ask. Is Mama cooking?”

“Of course. And I’m sure she’d be more than happy to welcome his highness.”

Jack looked at Davey like he’d forgotten he was there.

“You want dinner?”

Davey shrugged, and Jack’s smile widened.

“Then I guess you finally get to know where I’m from. Race, go let ‘em know we’re coming. We’ll be right behind you.”

Race saluted Jack jokingly and ran off into the woods.

“He’ll get there first because he doesn’t have a horse, so he can take the shortcut,” Jack explained, starting to untie his horse. “It’ll take us about a half-hour.”

Davey tried to picture where they were on a map. As far as he knew, there weren’t any towns close by that Jack could be leading him too.

The path they followed wasn’t much of a road, either. It was definitely a hunting trail, even narrower than the one they’d taken on their way in. Branches brushed against Davey’s side and head.

Jack was whistling.

It was a tune Davey was positive he knew, but he couldn’t quite place what the words should be. It was a folk song, he knew, and a few random phrases kept popping into his head, but he couldn’t think of what it was called or the rest of the lyrics.

“Not once did you speak for the poor and the weak when the moss-troopers lay in your shade, to count out the plunder and hide frae the thunder…” Jack’s whistled turned into quiet singing, just loud enough for it to carry back to Davey.

Of course he had a nice voice.

Obviously.

Why wouldn’t he?

“And share out the spoils o' their raid, but you saw the smiles o' the gentry and the laughter of lords at their gains. When the poor hunt the poor across mountain and moor the rich man can keep them in chains.”

As Jack sang, his voice got louder, until it was echoing off the trees and filling all of the space on the trail.

Davey knew the words now that Jack had started singing them, and he found himself humming the harmony he knew from when he’d heard it performed at court.

“And I thought as I stood and laid hands on your wood that it might be a kindness to fell you,” Jack continued singing, and Davey could hear the smile in his voice. Wherever they were going, he was excited about it. “One kiss o' the ax and you're freed frae the racks o' the sad bloody tales that men tell you. But a wee bird flew out from your branches and sang out as never before, and the words o' the song were a thousand years long, and to learn them's a long thousand more. Last, my bonnie yew tree.”

Just as Jack finished singing, Davey noticed the smell of woodsmoke getting stronger.

Jack started humming a different song, and a few minutes later, other sounds started to filter in through the trees. Laughter, voices, playful shouting.

A few minutes after that, the trees thinned out and the path opened up into what looked like a tiny village.

There were six or seven buildings in a circle, a big fire in the middle with a positively massive pot on top of it. A few big gardens with a lot of big leafy plants in them grew behind the buildings, and a few horses, cows, sheep and chickens wandered around. At first, Davey thought the animals were all completely free, but they were actually tied to posts with long ropes that let them move around wherever they wanted.

Jack had barely broken into the clearing when several people were shouting his name and charging at him. Jack leaped off his horse, laughing, and handed the reins to somebody who led the horse to one of the buildings and tied it up before joining the people jumping on Jack.

Davey watched from on top of his horse.

Jack’s smile was so wide it looked painful. He had two small kids, definitely no older than ten, hanging off his neck, one in front and one in back. They were chattering in his ears, and he had his arms wrapped around the one in front while the one in back had their legs wrapped around his waist. At least six other people, most of whom looked pretty young, were crowding around him, all talking at once.

“Whoa, whoa, one at a time, hey? Can’t understand all of you at once, can I? And isn’t anybody gonna welcome our guest?”

Instantly, a few members of the horde peeled off and gathered around Davey, one urging him to climb down, another leading his horse away, all of them shouting and laughing and smiling at him.

One little boy who looked like he was around five years old took Davey’s hand and dragged him towards Jack, who had ended up sitting on the ground in a pile with all the youngest kids.

After at least ten minutes, Jack dragged himself back to his feet, holding a kid on each hip. He was laughing, and so was everybody else.

Davey had no idea what was going on. He had no idea who these people were, why they lived in a tiny village in the middle of the woods, or why they all seemed to know Jack so well.

“Everyone, meet his royal highness Prince David.”

“He moving in?”

“Course not, dummy, Jacky’s teachin’ him how to fight, ‘member?”

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t moving in, stupid.”

“He lives in a castle, how come he’d ever move in with us?”

The chatter was never-ending.

Davey was slightly overwhelmed.

“Hey, hey, settle down, take a breath. Dinner ready yet?”

“Mama Medda’s still cooking. We’re having stew tonight!”

“Stew, huh? Guess I picked a good night for a visit.”

“You aren’t staying?”

“Nah, I gotta keep teaching his royal highness how to fight.” Jack’s voice dropped to a stage whisper. “He’s worse than Romeo. Needs a lot of work.”

The kids shrieked with laughter and Jack turned his smile on Davey, shrugging apologetically.

Davey realized it was the first time Jack had directed a full smile at him. Not a half-smile, his full, beaming smile.

Davey was well and truly screwed on the subject of Jack Kelly as soon as that smile was aimed at him.

Not that he hadn’t been before. But.

In the half-second Jack was smiling right at him, Davey was positive that he was in love with Jack Kelly. Not just infatuated, which he’d been since the first time he’d seen his face.

Of course he was infatuated with Jack, anyone who could see had to be able to tell how attractive he was.

But when Jack smiled at him like that, he knew it went beyond the simple attraction he’d been trying to convince himself it was.

Jack barely even liked him as a person. He’d never even called Davey by his name.

And yet one big, genuine smile from him was enough to absolutely convince Davey that he was in love with him.

“Jack Kelly! Drop the kids and get over here!” A woman appeared out of one of the buildings. She was holding a long ladle, and she approached Jack with outstretched arms.

Jack let go of the kids he was holding, letting them slide down his legs to the ground, and let himself be enveloped in the biggest hug Davey had ever seen.

“It has been months, Jack Kelly, that is far too long!”

“I’ve been busy, Mama, so busy!”

“I’ve missed your face, sweetheart, you can’t stay away for so long!”

“I’ll be back sooner next time, Mama, I promise.”

“You better.” The woman let go of Jack and turned towards Davey. “And look at you, skinny as a stick, we need to get some food in you!”

“Mama, this is Prince David.”

“Your student.”

“And mine.” Race appeared out of the same building the woman had come from, mouth full of bread and half a roll in his hand. “Taught him all day today.”

“He’s better with a bow than with a sword, huh, your highness?”Jack smiled at him again and Davey just about passed out.

This was not fair.

“This is Mama Medda. She takes care of all of us.” Race said, slinging his arm around her shoulders and grinning at her. She reached out and brushed a crumb off of his face.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Prince David. Now let’s eat!”

Dinner here was a messy, chaotic affair. Medda ladled out big bowls of stew, which was absolutely delicious, and somebody produced a huge tray of rolls from somewhere.

Davey had pretty much never eaten an official meal away from the people at court. Even when they were traveling, heading for the summer palace or back to the normal castle, there was a certain etiquette to meals. People sat down, ate with their utensils, and conversations were kept relatively quiet and contained.

This was absolutely nothing like that.

The best Davey could count there were sixteen people around the fire. There could have been more, he doubted there were less, but they all moved around so much he wasn’t positive if he’d counted right. Nobody stayed in the same spot for more than a couple of seconds, including Jack. They jumped up and yelled whatever they were saying to whoever needed to hear it. Rolls were tossed through the flames to be caught on the other side or roll in the dirt, which didn’t seem to stop anyone from eating them anyway. Bowls were tugged out of hands as somebody rapidly ate whatever somebody else didn’t want out of their stew. Jack ate the carrots from at least four little kids’ bowls, and passed his own mushrooms to Race without even having to ask. The little kids played a very chaotic, complicated game of hide and seek tag while waiting for their stew to cool and picked up where they’d left off when they scarfed everything down.

And it didn’t seem to phase anyone except Davey.

Jack tilted his head back and laughed, his mouth full of bread, and a little kid skidded up behind him, pulled his hair, and shrieked with laughter when Jack spun around and picked him up, tossing him up in the hair before swinging him back to the ground. Race finished his third bowl of stew and sprawled backward in the dirt, calling out random numbers and laughing when the kid he’d messed up stuck their tongue out at him and started over.

Davey looked at Mama Medda, who had somehow managed to have an entire conversation with Jack through the chaos, expecting to see a frazzled mother who wanted to wrangle the kids like so many he’d seen while traveling, and instead he saw somebody who took as much joy in the chaos as the kids themselves did.

It was kind of wonderful. A little bit overwhelming, but still kind of wonderful.

Davey didn’t understand this little place in the middle of the woods, but he understood why Jack had been so excited to come back to it.

By the time Jack finally managed to get the last kid off his back and his horse’s reins in his hands, it was completely dark out and the moon was visible above the trees.

Mama Medda gave him one more big hug, and so did Race. The younger kids all gathered around him in one massive hug, too.

“Let us know the next time you’re coming, Jacky, we’ll get Crutchie back at the same time.” Race said.

“He’s coming to see me next week.”

“Aw, we’ll still have a party if you both come back at the same time.”

Jack laughed again and jumped up on his horse.

“Any excuse for a party out here, huh, Mama?”

“You know Race is full of empty promises, but we’ll see what we can do.”

“I’ll see you all soon, then.”

“Love you, Jacky.”

“You, too, Mama.”

Davey was a little bit more nervous than he’d care to admit about riding home in the dark through the forest.

Not about anything in particular. There wasn’t exactly a reputation for bandits or anything. Just about the fact that they were in the woods and it was dark and he wasn’t entirely sure where they were. If he got lost, he wasn’t positive he’d be able to find his way home.

More than that, he was positive he wouldn’t be able to find his way home.

Jack was quiet now, too, which only made things worse.

“Now you know,” he said after about fifteen minutes of silence.

“Know what?”

“Where I’m from.”

“What is that place?”

Jack laughed, somewhere in-between incredulous and bitter.

“You don’t know much about the world outside your castle, do you, highness?”

“What?”

“It’s an orphanage. A place for kids nobody else wants.”

“And you-“

“That’s where I grew up. In an orphanage in the middle of the woods full of kids who don’t have a chance.”

“What do you mean don’t have a chance?”

“What do you think I mean? You think any of us have a chance at being anything? You start at the bottom, that’s where you stay.”

“You didn’t-“

“I know you noticed the way they all treat me. You aren’t stupid, and I’ve seen you watching. I take one step up the ladder and the people on top start kicking down at me. Only thing I did was get good enough with a sword to make enough money to get outta the trees. All those fancy nobles liked me just fine when the only thing I did was beat them twice a year. I was the entertainment, the one they watched and didn’t mind losing to ‘cause who was I once the fight was over? Once I’m teaching you, though, that’s just too far. Who do I think I am, trying to be more than I am? I’m a nobody from nowhere who happens to be good at something and that doesn’t make me worth anything to them. That’s why they don’t like me, David, because I’m a threat to them and everything they stand for. If one person can make their way up from the bottom, then so can a thousand, and then their fancy last names and old money don’t matter no more.”

The speech came pouring out of Jack like he’d been waiting to say it his entire life. He hadn’t shifted back to the accent he used at court, and his natural accent only seemed to get stronger the more passionate he got.

“Get it now, Davey? Do you get why I can’t be your friend? ‘Cause you keep trying, and the more you try the harder it is to not be, and if any one of your fancy noble friends see us being anything more than student and teacher, they kick even harder. And I don’t like being kicked.”

Davey didn’t really have anything to say to that. He wouldn’t like being treated the way the nobles treated Jack, either, and Jack was right, Davey had no idea what life was like for most people. He’d spent his entire life in a big, comfortable castle with a happy family and everything he could ever ask for.

And Jack hadn’t. Jack had had to work for everything he had and even now that he had made it somewhere, he clearly felt like he couldn’t get any further.

So he didn’t say anything.

For another few minutes, they rode in silence. Davey stayed close to Jack, not willing to fall back in case he lost track of him in the dark, but they didn’t speak.

“You called me by my name,” Davey finally said, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“You called me by my name. Not my title.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’d rather be called Davey than anything else.” Davey was blushing. He could feel it.

“It isn’t proper etiquette,” Jack said, shifting out of his natural accent.

“That’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. Don’t you get it, your highness? The friendlier I am with you, the worse it gets with everyone else.”

“I could tell them to stop.”

“And then what? They’d be nice to me when you’re there and twice as bad when you’re not. It’s fine out here, when nobody pays attention. I took you to see where I’m from. I let you meet my family. It just doesn’t work like this at court.”

“So you’re my friend when nobody is looking.”

Jack didn’t respond.

It was a long, cold, silent ride all the way back home.

Davey wished it was raining so he could blame the stinging behind his eyes on anything other than the tears that were threatening to fall.

It shouldn’t have hurt his feelings so bad.

Over the next two months, the same pattern repeated over and over again.

When they were at court, Jack was nothing other than a teacher. He sometimes offered Davey a tiny smile or a handshake after a particularly good fight. Davey was improving. He was still pretty far from good, but he was at the point where he lasted at least a minute pretty consistently against Jack, and he’d even won once against another student.

And every once in a while, Jack would have some excuse to disappear into the woods for a day. There was some kind of lesson involved, another day of balance training, another day of archery with Race, climbing trees for upper body strength, running or hiking or swimming for endurance. But those were the days when Jack relaxed. He smiled more and laughed and even occasionally dropped Davey’s title. He was friendly. They got along.

Davey fell more in love with him every time that happened.

He really liked the real Jack, the relaxed Jack.

The Jack that was so on edge around the nobles was fine. He was never mean to Davey, or anything like that, he just wasn’t the same. Davey knew him well enough to tell that Jack wasn’t on edge because of him, but he was still on edge. Always paying attention to who was watching, and never relaxing enough even to genuinely smile.

“Bring your riding boots tomorrow.”

That was pretty much Davey’s favorite sentence to hear. That meant they were going out the next day instead of just training. And when they went out, Jack relaxed into himself. He smiled and laughed and joked and treated Davey like a friend instead of a student and nothing more. He was fun, and funny, and every time they went off into the woods and Jack told a weird joke or made fun of somebody they both knew and didn’t like, every time Jack let Davey in a little bit more, Davey fell more in love with him.

Davey was starting to learn his way around the woods, too, so he noticed when Jack didn’t take any of their normal routes. They were going somewhere new.

“I figured you deserved a break,” Jack said, already smiling when he stopped riding.

They were at a lake Davey had never been to before. It wasn’t huge; he could see across to the other side and he was pretty sure he could swim across, but it looked clean and it was a hot afternoon, so it looked pretty inviting, too.

Jack produced a horse blanket that he spread on the ground, and he revealed that his backpack was packed not with his usual supply of apples and bread, but instead with carefully wrapped pastries Davey recognized as the desserts that had been served at dinner the night before.

“It pays to be friends with the kitchen staff,” he said, and he laughed at the look on Davey’s face.

“What is this?”

“You’ve been working hard. I thought it was time for a break.” Jack sat down on the blanket, legs out in front of him and arms thrown out behind and tilted his head for Davey to sit, too. “If anyone asks, I took you out for more endurance training.”

Davey laughed.

“So we’re spending the day having a picnic?”

“Picnic, swimming, whatever you want that isn’t training. Have a cookie.”

Davey laughed again and took the cookie Jack had offered him, sitting down next to him and looking out at the lake.

It was nice out. It was a beautiful view. The cookie was delicious. And Davey was hyperaware of how close he was to Jack and how much this looked like a date.

Really. What else was he supposed to think? A picnic by a lake, desserts, all alone? In what world did that not feel like a date?

Especially when Jack laid on his back and knocked Davey backward, too, and started finding shapes in the clouds. He was much more creative than Davey was. Davey found birds and trees and other very basic shapes. Jack found entire stories. Characters from legends dancing across the sky, fighting their battles and interacting with each other. Once Jack pointed them out, Davey could see them too, but he never would have seen them by himself.

“And that’s Arvias the Great Dragon, chasing Belin Lambelin across the sea to protect his people.”

That was the first name Jack had used that he didn’t recognize. Not Belin Lambelin, he was a famous hero and king. Arvias the Great Dragon, though, Davey had never heard of.

“Who’s Arvias the Great Dragon?”

“You’ve never heard that one? He’s my favorite.” Jack smiled at the clouds. “He was the protector of Othua. The island off the south shore, you know? Belin Lambelin wanted Othua for this country. He assumed that Arvias was holding the people hostage, because he believed that dragons were no more than animals, incapable of any kind of thought or intention. That may be true for some dragons, but Arvias was no wild animal.”

Jack was speaking like he’d memorized the story out of a book.

“Arvias was a Great Dragon, one of the last ones left. He was as bigger than the biggest ship in Belin Lambelin’s navy, almost the size of a small island, and his scales glowed like the stars and shifted with the sea. He had a hoard, and he took care of it like every dragon does, but Arvias didn’t sleep on piles of precious jewels or surrounded by stacks of coins. No, the hoard of Arvias was more precious than that, because Arvias hoarded people. Their lives, their stories, their fears and hopes and dreams, everything that made them human. Other dragons had hoarded people’s deaths, their bones, their screams, but Arvias turned that idea away, because he saw the beauty in how people lived, rather than how they didn’t. So Arvias the Great Dragon was the protector of Othua, the guardian. He watched over the people, ensured they were well fed, well clothed, and sheltered the island from the winter winds with his outstretched wings. When there wasn’t enough food, he flew to find them more, when a frost threatened their crops, he warmed the air with his fire.

“Arvias was a beloved figure for the people of Othua. He was not only their protector, but also their mentor, their friend, and their king. He carried the wisdom of a thousand of his ancestors, and gave it freely to those who asked. A single one of his tears could heal an entire city of their illnesses, and he cried freely for the suffering of his people, meaning they never suffered for long. When one of his people died, Arvias ensured they were remembered with care and honor. Othua was a thriving country not despite Arvias, but because Arvias the Great Dragon ensured it stayed that way.

“When Belin Lambelin completed his trials here, he wanted to expand his influence and his power. He wasn’t a bad king, but he was a greedy one, always eager for more to add to his legacy. The first place he set his sights on was Othua. He’d heard tales of Arvias, but the people outside Othua didn’t understand how the Great Dragon was a protector, not holding them hostage. So Belin Lambelin readied his great navy and started out for Othua.

“When he arrived, Arvias watched from the great cliffs as his ships threw their anchors and Belin Lambelin’s army started towards the shore. Arvias didn’t stop them as they approached, because he believed in giving every human a chance. If they had come peacefully, and his hoard of people had joined Belin Lambelin’s kingdom by choice, Arvias would have continued protecting his people without preventing Belin Lambelin from joining the kingdoms together. The two things could exist together; as long as his people were safe, Arvias didn’t care who they claimed as their king.

“But Belin Lambelin marched his army through the port city, towards the paths that climbed the great cliffs and would lead them to Arvias. When asked what they were doing, the army simply replied, “we’re here to slay the dragon that plagues you,” and refused to open their ears to what the people of Othua had to say about Arvias. But Arvias was a Great Dragon, and he heard what they said, and started to prepare himself for the fight he knew was coming.

“If the army of Belin Lambelin had approached Arvias the Great Dragon alone, if they had not threatened his people or desired to steal his hoard entirely, Arvias would have simply scooped them up and dropped them back on their ships, used his great wings to blow them back the way they came. But the great mistake was made when a child stood in the way of the army.

“She was young, an orphan who Arvias had carried to Othua on his back when she was no more than two years old, and she tried to stop the army’s advance on the Great Dragon who had saved her life. When she refused to move, one of Belin Lambelin’s generals raised his hand and slapped her across the face, sending her sprawling in the dirt. Arvias was a Great Dragon, and his ears were as great as the rest of him.

“When he heard her cry, and saw her rush to the side of the road, Arvias spread his wings. Fire began to build in his gullet, and the army of Belin Lambelin heard, for the first time in their lives, the roar of a Great Dragon. Even the people of Othua had never heard such a noise. It shook their houses, knocked the cobwebs from their rafters and shook the fleas off their dogs. It didn’t scare them, because they knew Arvias would protect them, that his rage wasn’t directed at them but at the army marching towards him.”

Davey was watching Jack’s face as he spoke, and Jack was still staring at the sky, watching the clouds like he could see the story playing out above him.

“Most of the army was sensible. When they heard Arvias roar, it didn’t matter what their generals told them, they finally understood the power of the Great Dragon and they ran. The only people left to attack Arvias were the four generals and Belin Lambelin. Perhaps they were brave, perhaps they were stupid, or perhaps they were simply too stubborn to admit defeat, but they continued on towards Arvias nonetheless.

“Arvias simply watched them approach, his wings blocking the sun from their eyes and his scales glittering the darkest blue anybody on Othua had ever seen. When Belin Lambelin and his generals reached the top of the great cliffs, smoke was rising out of Arvias’s nostrils. The first general charged with a greatsword, and Arvias ate him with one snap of his terrible jaws. The second threw his lance, and Arvias burned it with one breath before flicking him over the cliff with one claw. The third shot at his eye with an arrow, but the eyes of a Great Dragon are each protected by a diamond scale, so the arrow shattered and a piece of it struck the general down. The fourth general carried a mace, but he threw himself over the cliff before he even attempted to harm Arvias.

“Belin Lambelin was the only man left standing in front of Arvias. Whether it was stupidity, bravery or stubbornness was still unclear, but he refused to back down. And then Arvias spoke. Belin Lambelin had never heard a dragon speak, because Belin Lambelin had never met a Great Dragon, only the more simple dragons that were more common. So when Arvias spoke, Belin Lambelin was shocked, and perhaps because of that, he listened.

“Arvias explained Othua. “These are my people. This is my kingdom. You dare to come here uninvited and hurt them? Had you come peacefully, had you merely asked permission to expand your maps, you would have been more than welcome. All people are given a chance here. And yet you arrive and allow the people you command to hurt a child? Listen now and listen well, as long as a Great Dragon is on this earth, the island of Othua is protected. I spare your life and the lives of your men so you may well remember this warning. The next time your ships approach this shore, you will be sailing into a sea of fire. You will not be allowed to touch the sand, if you do, it will turn to glass. The people here will never welcome you, never trade with you, and you will never succeed in taking this island for your own.” And with that warning, Arvias the Great Dragon took Belin Lambelin in his great claws, rose into the sky with one flap of his great wings, and dropped Belin Lambelin on one of his ships to wait for the wind to take him home.

“Arvias watched the ships prepare to leave, and Belin Lambelin vowed to return when Arvias died to claim Othua for his own. His voice reached Arvias, carried on the wind, and so Arvias decided that even his death would never be enough to allow this kingdom to claim his hoard. His people would never fall under the rule of Belin Lambelin or his descendants. Sick of waiting for the ships to catch the wind, Arvias flapped his great wings with enough strength to send the ships over the horizon. For as long as he was alive, no ships would ever again approach the island of Othua intending to capture it for their own. The soldiers of Belin Lambelin ensured that the story and the warning that they had heard themselves in Arvias’s deep, powerful voice was spread to every land they conquered and every land they didn’t, until the entire world knew of the Great Dragon who protected the island.

“Great Dragons know when they will die from the minute they are born. It comes as part of the wisdom of their ancestors, the generations before them. And so, when Arvias knew he would die soon, with no child to take his place as the protector of his hoard, he called the people of Othua to a meeting. His voice was weaker than it had been in the thousand years he had been alive, but the people gathered around him and listened not only with their ears but with their hearts. Arvias instructed them to let him die peacefully, to not attempt to save him. To take his scales and craft armor and shields, his claws and teeth to be their weapons. He shared every piece of knowledge of every war and every fight ever fought, so that even after his death he would still be protecting them, providing them with the skills and strategies that would have been lost without him.

“His body would rot, and the stench would keep outsiders away. Once his body was gone, his bones were to be tied together, formed into a formidable reminder of the Great Dragon he had one been, his toothless skull facing out towards the bay to warn away intruders.

“If you were to approach Othua today, the bones still remain. The shields, armor, and weapons crafted from Arvias’s great blue scales and great white teeth are still used, carefully polished and kept and passed down from father to son, from mother to daughter. Even generations after his death, therefore, Arvias is protecting his hoard. The island is still independent, potential invaders turned away by the threat of the bones and the army dressed in dragons’ scales. Many assume the small island defeated the Great Dragon, but some know the true story of Arvias and the protection he still grants to his people, and isn’t that more powerful?”

When he finished telling the story, Jack sighed and closed his eyes.

Davey had never heard any part of the story other than the rumors of the island with its only bay marked by a dragon’s skull.

Jack had obviously learned it somewhere. He recited it the way a storyteller might on a night of entertainment, or even the way it would be written in a book, the kind of book that came with bright, detailed illustrations.

“It’s my favorite story,” Jack said quietly after a few seconds. His eyes were still closed. “It’s why a chose a dragon for my tournament armor. I don’t have any of his scales, but Arvias is still protecting me, I guess.”

“Are you from Othua?”

“I don’t know where I’m from. I showed up at Mama Medda’s orphanage when I was little. I spoke a language they didn’t know. I like to think I’m from Othua because I wish I am, but I’m probably from a no-good family who couldn’t take care of me and didn’t want the shame of leaving me in their country, so they dropped me off over the border and I ended up with Medda because that’s where the kids nobody else wants end up.”

“I wondered about the dragon theme.”

“Have you been to the New Years' tournament before?”

“Not since I was really little.”

“Everybody picks some kind of motif and competes under that symbol and name. I’m a dragon. Most people pick some kind of bear, or a fancy bird, or whatever’s in their family crest. I picked Arvias. If I could afford metal, it’d be blue steel, like his scales.”

“You’d be terrifying.”

“Even the leather freaks some people out.” Jack smiled and opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to look at Davey. “Shoulda seen the look on the face of the first guy I fought with that helmet on. Something about the eyes, I think.”

“It’s freaky.”

“Does it intimidate you?”

“It did the first day. Before I knew you.”

“And now?”

“Now I just think it’s funny. You’re ten times more dressed up than anyone else when you wear it.”

“I don’t have another full set of armor, and I hate the practice armor with a burning passion. Do you know how often they clean it? Not often enough, I’ll tell you that.”

Davey laughed and rolled over to face Jack.

They were very close now. So close that when Jack laughed back at him, he could feel the breath on his face.

A single one of Jack’s curls had escaped from the high bun he had his hair in and was falling directly in the middle of his forehead. Without thinking about it, Davey reached out and brushed it away from his eyes.

Jack froze, a nervous half-smile on his face.

Davey froze, his hand still on the side of Jack’s face.

The next things that happened happened in moments. Single, crystal-clear snapshots, rather than the fluid passage of time.

Jack reached up and touched Davey’s hand.

Jack’s hand covered his entirely, pressed Davey’s hand into his cheek.

Jack’s eyes dropped from Davey’s.

Davey felt Jack sigh, the breath brushing across his face.

And then Jack kissed him, and it broke the spell. Jack kissed him, and Davey gasped. Jack pulled back, mouth already moving in what was probably an apology, but Davey cut him off with another kiss before any words could leave his mouth.

Jack kissed him.

Jack kissed him.

And Davey kissed Jack.

Where the nerve to do that came from, Davey had no idea.

But Jack sighed and let go of Davey’s hand pressing into his cheek and instead brushed his own fingers across Davey’s cheek, and he kissed Davey back.

Davey was an academic. He liked books and words and the way the world fit together, and it was sometimes hard for him to shut off his brain and just let things happen.

But kissing Jack made his brain stop working. He couldn’t form a coherent thought, and he couldn’t care less about it, not when he was preoccupied with the fact that Jack was kissing him and he was kissing Jack. That Jack had a hand on the side of his face and a hand resting on his side, warm through his shirt. That Jack still had some lingering sweet taste from the cookie he’d eaten. That Jack was kissing him.

Jack was _kissing_ him.

Not that he hadn’t caught himself imagining it more than a couple of times in the last couple months, especially with how every time he went into the woods with Jack they got closer and closer, but he’d never thought about it in a realistic way. In a knight in shining armor, sweeping in to save the day kind of way.

Not in a lying on a blanket in the woods for real, actually happening, really happening right now, kind of way.

It could have been fifteen seconds or fifteen minutes when Jack pulled back.

His eyes were closed.

He had really long eyelashes.

He had a very slight smile on his face.

He was the most beautiful person Davey had ever seen in his entire life.

“Well,” Jack whispered. “Guess that had to happen sooner or later.”

He didn’t open his eyes.

“Took you long enough.”

Davey wasn’t sure where that came from, either. He normally wouldn’t be the type to say something like that.

“How was I supposed to know how you’d take it?”

Jack’s eyes opened and Davey was staring into them. They were so dark brown they were almost black, and Davey felt like he could fall in and get lost in them forever.

“Is it not obvious?”

“I thought you hated me.”

Davey had to laugh at that.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“Everyone likes you, Davey. You’re impossible not to like.”

“You, too.”

“Unless you’re a noble brat.”

“They’re all brats, though.”

“Not you.”

“No, not me.”

Jack laughed at that, and Davey kissed him again.

And Jack kissed him again.

The sun was hot, about halfway towards setting, and somehow warmth still seemed to spread from where Jack’s lips met his and from where Jack’s hands rested, one on his face and one on his side.

Davey was cupping Jack’s cheek. He wanted to touch Jack’s hair, to bury his hands in the thick curls he’d been staring at for months, but was thwarted by the bun tied up with a complicated knot.

He lost track of time again. Jack kissed him and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, and all Davey knew was how warm it was and wonderful it was. At some point, Jack took his other hand and twined their fingers together. When he pulled back again, he didn’t let go of Davey’s hand.

His smile was wider now, a real smile, and he gently traced Davey’s face with his fingertips.

“Bet the noble brats wouldn’t be too happy with how this afternoon is turning out, huh?” He said, a spark of humor dancing in his eyes. “They don’t even like me talking to you ‘bout anything except swords, and now I’m kissing you in the woods?”

“Too bad for them, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“They don’t get to pick who I kiss.”

Jack laughed, throwing his head backward and rolling back over onto his back.

“And you’re picking to kiss me?”

“Why would I pick anyone else?”

“Because anyone else is a better match for a prince.”

“You know I don’t care about any of that.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

Jack laughed and squeezed his hand.

“I guess I do.”

The rest of the afternoon was one of the best of Davey’s life.

He’d had crazy afternoons before. Visiting royal families who brought insane parties with them, festivals that dragged on well past the point of everyone being drunk and losing their inhibitions.

But being out in the woods with Jack. Drunk on sunshine and too many desserts. Swimming in the lake, Jack splashing at him and diving underneath him and pulling him underwater and laughing when Davey spit in his face, and tumbling out onto the shore and sprawling close together on the blanket.

Jack telling more stories, ones Davey knew but told so vividly Davey could practically see them happening.

Jack taking Davey’s hand like he was counting the fingers, and smiling at Davey and kissing his hand.

By the time the sun was starting to set, Jack’s hair had come loose and Davey’s shirt was untucked and they were both a mess.

“Think anyone will buy that we did anything productive today?” Jack said, trying to wrangle his hair back into a bun and not quite succeeding.

“Maybe. Probably not.”

“Well, you did swim for a while.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it counts for training.”

Jack laughed again, his head tilting back and the curls he hadn’t managed to catch in his ribbon falling around his face.

He was so beautiful.

Davey couldn’t help but kiss him again.

Things didn’t really change all that much.

Davey got better at understanding Jack when he was pretending to be somebody else.

He had a way of setting his jaw and tilting his head when he was barely containing his thoughts. A dangerous glint in his eye when he was barely keeping a biting comment back. A particular way of tensing his shoulders when he could see an insult, verbal or otherwise, coming.

His favorite, though, was the joke he was now a part of, whenever a noble did something stupid and Jack made eye contact with whoever was standing closest to him and would think it was funny like he was saying, “get a load of this guy.”

His eyes sparkled and his lips twitched and Davey knew that in his head he was positively dying of laughter, and now he got to share in that joke.

And of course, when they disappeared into the woods together, whether they were actually training or not, when Jack let the sparkle in his eyes spill out into that beautiful laugh of his that filled the air and was so contagious.

For the first time ever, Davey actively looked forward to, actively liked or even loved his sword fighting lessons. And he improved, too.

He still wasn’t great, and he doubted he ever would be, no matter how long he studied with Jack, but he could hold his own against other deeply average swordsmen.

The nice thing about that was that Les could no longer beat him in under a minute, and he no longer heard people laughing when he fought anybody. He still lost to Jack in about forty-five seconds every time, but even that was better than the one move it had taken Jack to disarm him the first day they’d met.

Unfortunately, it also meant that he couldn’t get out of not only attending the New Years' tournament, which he had actually been looking forward to, but also participating in the opening of it, which he was definitely not looking forward to.

He hadn’t actually been to the tournament since long before Jack had first started his winning streak, always managing to beg off with one excuse or another. He remembered it being long, a three-day festival that was one swordfight after another after another, very difficult to sit through as a kid who wasn’t very interested in the nuances of swordplay.

He still wasn’t very interested in the nuances of swordplay, but he was very, very interested in watching Jack defeat every single person who made his life difficult at court.

He didn’t have any memory of the opening ceremony from when he was little, but he knew it was a big how-to-do, and if he was there, he would have to be part of it, and that would mean not only walking in with the rest of his family but also fighting some kind of ceremonial duel.

Jack thought it was hilarious when he realized that.

“They’ll put you up against somebody your own age.”

“So somebody ten times better than me who’ll embarrass me in front of everybody.”

“Probably,” Jack grinned at him upside down from the tree he’d climbed while waiting for Davey to finish his lunch, hanging from a branch like a monkey. “And I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

“How rude.”

“It isn’t every day you get to see a member of the royal family disgraced without starting a revolution.”

“Is that a threat I should be concerned about, Mr. Kelly?”

“Obviously. I want that crown.” Jack lazily grabbed at the little circlet Davey was wearing and laughed when he managed he get it. He flipped himself rightsize up on the branch and put it on.

His curls were crazy enough to almost completely hide the silver crown. Only a few flashes of it showed through.

He puffed his chest out and lifted his nose in the air. Davey had to crane his neck to see him properly, but he looked ridiculous.

“I’m the crown prince now, and I decree that everyone who cannot defeat me in a duel must die by my sword.”

“You’ll kill everyone in the kingdom, then.”

“And have everything all to myself.”

“Seems like a horrible life to me.”

“It would be.” Jack dropped down and yanked the crown off his head, placing it back on Davey’s. “Any life without you would be a horrible life, and you could never beat me in a duel.”

“Aw, how sweet.”

“You could practice on me so opening ceremonies are less embarrassing for you.”

“I practice on you every day.”

“I’ll fight you right-handed.”

“You’re just as good with both hands, Jack, I’ve noticed.”

“Shame. I’ll be bad for you on purpose then.”

“Of course you will.”

Still, Jack disarmed him in less than two minutes.

He apologized with a kiss, though, so Davey figured it wasn’t too bad.

Two weeks before New Years, Davey was still unprepared for opening ceremonies, and rather than focusing on fixing that, he was distracting himself in his mother’s jewelry instead.

He liked learning about their family history through the jewels. There was a story attached to every one, and his mother was always willing to tell them.

There were crowns passed down for hundreds of years, kept on busts and only ever worn for the most serious of occasions. Necklaces worn by every queen since the reign of Belin Lambelin himself, signet rings from every pair of monarchs, bracelets made from metals that couldn’t be found anywhere else but here.

Every piece was beautiful, or at least interesting to look at. Most were so elaborate that Davey could spend an entire day just studying the details.

Except the one he’d just found, which was by far the most simple necklace in the collection, at least that Davey had found so far.

It was a silver chain, too thick to be called delicate but still very pretty, with a single little blue oval hanging off of it. He wasn’t sure what the charm was made out of it, but it was beautiful. It seemed to shift between shades when he held it up to the light, going from a deep navy blue to a shade lighter than the sky and even seeming to be almost green at some points. It was mesmerizing.

“Mama, what’s this?”

“That was your grandmother’s before she was even queen.”

“What’s the stone?”

“She always called it her dragon scale. I’m not sure what it really is. She said it was good luck.”

Davey held it up to the light again, remembering Jack’s story.

“Can I have it, Mama?”

“If you’d like. I can’t remember the last time I wore it.”

Davey put it carefully in his pocket.

The first morning of the New Year, Davey was only a little bit nervous. He had no idea who he would be fighting, but it wouldn’t be anybody good enough to actually compete in the tournament, so it wouldn’t be a huge deal. Other than that, his only job was to sit in the royal box and look pretty, pretty much.

He couldn’t find Jack, though, and he wanted to.

Everyone competing was supposedly in the big tents behind the arena field, and it seemed like most of them were. They were wandering around, warming up against each other or rope-wrapped posts or standing dummies, most of them half-dressed in various animal-themed suits of armor.

Davey could count eight stylized bears, at least fourteen fierce-looking birds, and some scattered random animals like badgers, rodents, and a horse. No dragons, though, and Davey knew Jack was the only dragon.

He finally ended up finding him laughing with some people Davey recognized from the village, far away from everyone else. 

“Prince David! Hello!” He said cheerfully. “Ready for your duel?”

“I was actually hoping that you’d warm me up first.”

“Of course. I’ll see you guys later, then.”

“Bye, Jacky. Can’t wait to beat you.”

“Can’t wait for you to try!”

Jack followed Davey back towards the tent he had to himself.

“What’s up? Are you nervous?”

“No, I’m okay, I just have a present for you.”

“What?”

“I have a present for you, and I wanted to give it to you before the tournament started. For luck.”

Davey could see that Jack was skeptical. He didn’t like accepting things from other people, whether it was help or gifts. He was proud that he’d earned everything he had, and he didn’t like feeling like people pitied him.

“Just close your eyes and let me give you a present, Jack.”

Jack sighed and closed his eyes, and Davey pulled his grandmother’s necklace out of his pocket.

He knew Jack would love it if he’d accept it.

Which he would. Because his love for Davey was stronger than his dislike of gifts.

“You can open them.”

Jack opened his eyes. At first, he didn’t seem to notice the necklace Davey was dangling between them. Davey saw his eyes widen when he did process it.

“Oh…” he said softly, catching the pendant in his hand and looking at it carefully.

“My grandmother called it a dragon scale.”

“It looks exactly how I pictured it.”

“Mama says it’s good luck. I thought you’d like it.” Davey opened the clasp and offered the necklace to Jack, who leaned forward and let Davey fasten it around his neck. “I didn’t think I’d get away with getting you blue steel armor, but I thought a necklace might slide.”

“This is better than blue steel armor, Davey. It’s a real piece of Arvias.” Jack closed his fist over the necklace so tightly Davey could see his knuckles whiten. “Nothing else could look like that.”

Without warning, Jack had him wrapped in the tightest hug Davey had ever felt from him.

He wasn’t wearing all of his armor yet, so Davey wasn’t impaled by any spikes of leather, but it still almost hurt from how tight Jack squeezed him.

“That’s a really good present, Davey.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

Jack let go of him but kept his arms draped around Davey’s shoulders, smiling. Davey reached up and tucked the necklace into his shirt, and Jack leaned forward to kiss him.

“I’ll definitely win now,” he said, smiling, when he pulled back.

“You already would have.”

“But this just makes it even more likely.”

Somebody outside Davey’s tent called Jack’s name, and he sighed.

“Guess that’s my cue. Good luck in your fight.”

“Thanks, I guess. Good luck in all of yours.”

“You already gave me all the good luck I could ask for.” Jack pressed his hand where the necklace rested under his shirt. He smiled and kissed Davey quickly, and then turned and left the tent. “Love you, Davey,” he said just quietly enough that nobody outside would hear.

“You, too,” Davey’s face heated up and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Well, that’s a new development, isn’t it?” Sarah’s voice came from the back of the tent and startled him. “And I thought I’d get to be the first to wish you good luck.”

“Sarah! Don’t you knock?”

“On what? It’s a tent, Davey. I would have announced myself if it would have interrupted that ever so cute confession of feelings.”

“It…it wasn’t a confession-“

“Davey, he just told you he loved you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you…already knew that?” Sarah’s eyes widened with the realization. “How long have you been sneaking around with him?”

“I’m not sneaking around with anyone.”

“Well, he certainly isn’t courting you publicly, is he? What else would you call it, Davey?”

“Just because he hasn’t taken me to any balls doesn’t mean that we’re sneaking around, Saz, people just…haven’t noticed.”

“Because you’ve made a point to keep them from noticing.”

“Not really.”

“So then why haven’t people noticed? Hmm?”

Davey wasn’t sure if Sarah was actually upset or not. She might have just been poking fun at him, or she might have actually been hurt by Davey not telling her about Jack earlier.

“Because they didn’t.”

“What did you give him?”

“Nothing. Stop prying.”

“I will not. You gave him a good luck charm. What was it?”

“It was just a necklace, Saz.”

“What kind of necklace.”

“Why is that important?”

“I don’t know, I’m curious. My baby brother has a suitor who he’s serious enough about to give gifts, and I want to know what the gifts are.”

“It was one gift, it’s a necklace, and it’s none of your business.” Davey busied himself organizing his bits of armor and starting pull it on.

“It is my business because I’m your sister.”

“It’s not your business because I’m the one seeing him, not you, and so it’s my business, not yours.”

“You’re really serious about him?”

“Yes, Sarah, I’m really serious about him, okay? Leave it alone.”

Sarah sat down on a stool and watched him get ready in blissful silence for a few minutes.

“You should take him to the ball after the tournament,” she said while watching Davey lace his greaves. “You don’t have to hide it, you know. People like Jack. They’d approve. I like Jack. I approve.”

“Your approval isn’t everything. Plenty of people don’t like Jack. Plenty of people wouldn’t like it.”

“Like who? The boys who have been hoping you’d pay them any kind of attention for years only to have you latch onto Jack as soon as he shows up? Davey, they’re jealous.”

“Jealous of me?”

“Oh, you sweet naive boy. They’re jealous of Jack. He gets all your attention, and they’ve never been able to capture it at all.”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, Davey, you can’t be that oblivious. You’re a prince, for crying out loud. Everyone wants to woo you, win you, seduce you. And until Jack showed up, you never took your nose out of your books long enough to pay them any attention no matter how dramatic they were, and now that Jack is here you only look up to look at him, or vanish into the woods with him, or pull him into your tent to privately wish him good luck before a tournament they all wish they could win but they know they won’t because nobody stands a chance against the great Jack Kelly, who not only seems unbeatable with his sword but also achieved the seemingly impossible in getting you out of your own head. And he’s strikingly handsome, anybody can see that. All of the noble boys who have been trying to get at you forever are incredibly, insanely jealous of Jack. That’s why they’re all assholes to him. They want to get him to leave you alone so they can replace him.”

“They don’t like him because he isn’t one of them. I’ve heard them talking, Sarah, they all think he’s some kind of fraud because he isn’t noble-born.”

“They’re threatened by him.”

“Exactly! It has nothing to do with me, Saz, and Jack thinks it would just get worse if they all knew we were together.”

“It has everything to do with, Davey. I mean, it has to do with them being elitist assholes, too, but how would you feel if somebody you’d been chasing for years suddenly started to favor a person who you think of as less than you? It’s ridiculous, Davey, but they didn’t have anything against him until he was connected with you.”

That connected the dots in Davey’s head, because Jack had said almost the exact same thing.

That they’d at least ignored him until he’d started teaching Davey. That once he’d started teaching Davey, that was when they’d been threatened by him. That it didn’t matter how good he was with a sword, it just mattered that he was friends with anybody higher than him on the social ladder.

That people started kicking down at him once he started working with Davey, because working with Davey meant he was pulling himself up.

“I just saw it hit you. That’s why you should take him to the ball. Make it obvious that you’re serious about him, and maybe they’ll back off of him. After all, bothering him might offend you. And I guarantee you there’s some kind of precedent about taking the tournament victor to the ball.”

With that, Sarah laughed at the look on Davey’s face and disappeared out of the back flap of the tent she’d entered from, leaving Davey alone for the few minutes before he had to go fight his duel.

He lost, of course. Not fantastically, which was better than he’d thought he’d do. He did well enough that nobody laughed at him, and that was all he wanted.

Jack even looked vaguely approving from his seat in the competitor’s stands, though Davey was also pretty sure he’d caught the expression that meant Jack had been taking mental notes on corrections to give him later. Which was fair. He’d made mistakes and he knew Jack would fix them later.

After a few other just-for-fun matchups between people who couldn’t or wouldn’t be fighting in the actual tournament, young kids and older people and people who wanted to show off but not risk actually losing the tournament, the real fights began.

There were thirty-six people in the tournament.

They’d all fight twice the first day, making it a very long day.

The second day, they’d have been organized into the bracket they’d fight in. Everyone would get another chance to prove themselves, and if they didn’t win, they were out.

The third day would be the sixteen who made it through day two, and then the eight who made it through that, and then the four who made it through that, and finally the last two people fought until the winner was finally declared.

In the six years since Jack Kelly had first shown up to try for a spot in the tournament, he hadn’t lost once, and he wasn’t expected to lose this time, either.

It was obvious why the first time he stepped up to fight.

Davey could never tear his eyes away from Jack when he was fighting, but it was even more mesmerizing than usual this time.

He had his full suit of armor on, some kind of bright blue pigment pressed into the dragon symbol on the breastplate, and he moved so smoothly it looked more like dancing than fighting.

In two minutes, which was the longest Davey had ever seen a one-on-one fight with Jack last, his opponent’s sword was on the ground. Jack didn’t even look like he was breathing hard, and the man he’d defeated looked like he would pass out from exertion.

Jack extended a hand and shook his opponent’s hand, and they both went back to sit down.

When Jack wasn’t fighting, Davey was less invested in what was going on. He was more interested than he would have been last year, but a sword fight was usually just a sword fight, not particularly riveting entertainment. Once in awhile somebody upset the expectations of the audience with a particularly unexpected move or victory, but it was mostly a series of very predictable fights.

Jack won both of his fights, predictably. His second opponent was one of the nobles who was rude to him on the practice field. Davey noticed Jack extend his hand for a handshake and the nobleman ignore it.

It was well past sunset when the last duel ended. The arena was surrounded by blazing torched that made it just as hot as it had been at noon, at least as close to the torches as Davey was sitting. It was a relief to get to step into the cool night air.

His face felt tight, the way only sitting too close to a fire could make it feel, and the breeze felt wonderful. The tent that had been his today would be somebody else’s on the final day, so he had to collect his things and bring them back to his rooms in the castle. Not that he had much to collect, just his armor and sword.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Davey was startled by the voice, even as he recognized it, his eyes struggling to adjust to the dark tent and find Jack in the shadows.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“A while. Figured you’d be back eventually.” Jack stretched like a cat and grinned at Davey. He’d stripped all his armor off, and the dragon scale necklace was hanging outside his shirt.

“You fought well.”

“Course I did. That’s my job.”

It was natural to take a moment to just stand close to Jack. Their hands twined together between them. Jack rested his forehead on Davey’s, and when Davey looked down at their feet, he realized that Jack had to be on tiptoes to accomplish that.

Jack disturbed the quiet moment after a minute.

“So…your sister cornered me after lunch.”

“What?” Davey stepped back and blinked at Jack.

“Needless to say, it was terrifying. You know, I never really understood why everyone was so scared of her because she’s always been very pleasant to me, but she’s very scary. Kinda looked like she was going to murder me for a second.”

“What did she say?”

“She said that you are the most oblivious person in the entire kingdom, that I needed to acknowledge that in my relationship with you, and that if I didn’t take you to the New Year’s ball she’d break three fingers on each hand and make sure they weren’t treated properly so that I’d never be able to swing a sword again. And I’m pretty sure she meant it.”

“I promise I didn’t ask her to say any of that.”

“Well, considering she insulted you before threatening me, I figured that. I, um, I didn’t know you…told her.”

“I didn’t. She snuck in through the back this morning right before you left and neither of us noticed.”

“Hm. Maybe we’re both the most oblivious people in the kingdom.”

“You should hear her theory on why the nobles are so rude to you.”

“Oh?” Jack tilted his head, the ever so familiar sparkle in his eyes like he couldn’t wait to laugh at what Davey would say next.

“She says they’re all jealous of you.”

“Jealous? Of me?”

“Because you get all my attention, apparently.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s definitely part of it.”

“What?”

“C’mon, Davey, half the people in court are in love with you.” Jack did laugh then, squeezing Davey’s hands that he still hadn’t let go of. “You really are the absolute most oblivious person in this kingdom. They spend more time making eyes at you than focusing on anything else when you’re around.”

“Then why hasn’t a single person ever once tried to do anything about it?”

“Because you’re a prince and they’re all cowards.” Jack smiled and stepped close to Davey again. “They wouldn’t initiate anything ever.”

“You did.”

“I’m not a coward, now, am I?” Jack pushed himself up on tiptoe again and kissed Davey gently. “And I got tired of watching you watch me and not do anything about it.”

“You told me you weren’t my friend. Remember that?”

“Yeah, when I was scared of them.”

“I thought you weren’t a coward?”

“I’m not scared of them anymore.” Jack kissed him again and let go of his hands in favor of looping his arms around Davey’s neck. “And for the record, if you had asked I would have gone to the ball with you before your sister threatened bodily harm.”

“And now that she has threatened bodily harm?”

“Well, now that she has I think it’s even more likely that we go together.” Jack tried to force his smile to go away, but he couldn’t quite erase it completely. “Only because I’m scared for my poor fingers, of course.”

“Of course.”

“It has absolutely nothing to do with how I’m completely and totally in love with you.”

“Obviously not.”

“So don’t go getting any romantic ideas like that. My only motivation is my fingers.”

Davey laughed and kissed Jack again.

“I’m knocking!” Sarah’s voice came from outside the tent and Jack jumped backward, letting go of Davey and almost falling over. “Why is it taking you so long, Davey? Oh, hello, Jack.”

Sarah’s eyes flashed at Jack, and Davey knew her well enough to know that she had definitely been listening outside to interrupt at what she thought was the most embarrassing moment.

Jack was looking at the ground. Sarah had obviously succeeded in bothering him.

“Hi,” Jack said awkwardly.

“I didn’t realize I was interrupting. I’ll leave you two alone. Davey, shall I tell Mama and Papa that you’ll be a while or would you like us to go on without you? Never mind, I can see you two were talking.” Sarah turned and smiled widely at Davey, clearly very proud of herself. “Told you so,” she mouthed, and then she flounced out of the tent.

“She’s terrifying,” Jack said when he was sure she was far enough away to be out of earshot. “Gah. She makes me feel like she knows every bad thing I’ve ever done and she’s going to punish me for them.”

“She just likes to get under people’s skin. She likes you.”

“She sure doesn’t act like it.”

“She likes you, she said so. You just don’t know her well enough yet.”

“Yet?”

“If we’re going to the ball together, you’re going to have to talk to my family.”

Jack paled.

“I didn’t think of that.”

“You’ll like them. Les wants to be you, you know.”

“I’m not worried about him. I’ve seen him around and he knows plenty of people in town.”

“Really?”

“Oh. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“What?”

“Sometimes when he says he’s studying alone in a room he locks the door and sneaks out the window to go into town to hang out with…people.” Jack looked away from Davey. He was fidgeting with his hands like he was either anxious or embarrassed.

“Oh my god, you’re secretly friends with my little brother.”

“He…I mean…yeah. I’m secretly friends with your little brother. Sorry.”

Davey laughed.

“You don’t need to be sorry. He can be very charismatic when he wants to be.”

“He’s a sneaky little bastard who could talk a kid out of candy. But I’m not scared of him. I’m scared of your sister and your parents.”

“Sarah likes you. And my parents aren’t scary.”

“Davey, your parents are the reigning monarchs of this entire kingdom. They could literally have me killed if I bother them.”

“There hasn’t been an execution in over a hundred years, Jack. They’ll love you.”

“Doesn’t make them less scary.”

Davey tugged Jack close to him again and rested his arms on Jack’s shoulders.

“You’ll be with me. If I trust you to take care of me in the woods, you can trust me to take care of you at official events.”

“Events? Plural?”

“Well, if you’re taking me to the ball, that pretty much means you’re announcing your courtship. And that means you’ll have to accompany me to other official events.” Davey grinned at the expression on Jack’s face. “You’ll finally know what it feels like to be the one out of his element.”

“Oh no.”

The second day of the tournament wasn’t as long as the first. It finished before sunset and wasn’t particularly exciting to watch. Especially since Jack only fought once, and he won in less than two minutes, and after that, it was just fight after fight between people Davey didn’t particularly care about one way or another.

The third day was the best. According to Les, the third day was always the best, because it was the best fighters, and then the best of the best, and then the best of the best of the best, and then the final.

Those were Les’s exact words, and he was practically vibrating with excitement as the fights started.

They were better fights than the second or first day. Everybody in the tournament was good, far better with a sword than Davey could ever really hope to be, but the people who made it to the third day were the ones who were practically untouchable.

Jack’s first fight was over pretty quickly. Longer than any so far, but still less than five minutes.

His second fight lasted about ten minutes, and Davey couldn’t look away.

Jack’s eyes were narrow under his helmet. His sword switched from hand to hand as smoothly as his feet moved underneath him. He moved almost like he was dancing, not fighting, back and forth and side to side, spinning, his sword flashing in the sun. When he was close to the royal box, Davey could hear the one-sided conversation Jack seemed to be having, cheerful jokes and commentary on how the fight was going.

His opponent wasn’t talking. Every once in a while, she grunted, but Davey wasn’t sure if that was in response to Jack’s words or how hard his sword was clashing against hers.

She almost broke through his defenses, and Jack spun, his sword jumped from his right to his left hand, and after one more stroke, his opponent was forced to switch hands herself, only she wasn’t as good with her left as Jack was, and only a few seconds after that Jack knocked her sword out of her hand.

She was dressed as a phoenix in brilliantly dyed red and orange leather, and after she lost she shook her head as she shook Jack’s hand. They were too far away to hear, but she said something to Jack that made him tilt back his head and laugh before he responded.

Jack’s third fight was against one of a pair of brothers who were pretty well known for being good but pretty nasty. He won, but barely, and his handshake was rejected.

It put him in the final, though.

But before that fight, which would be against the other brother, it was time for dinner. A big feast for everyone who had competed and everyone attending. As much food as anybody could possibly eat.

Davey found Jack eating alone, away from everybody else.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He was nervous. Davey could tell. He had a plate piled high with food, but he was barely picking at it.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Nervous?”

“A little.” Jack nibbled at a roll, barely taking a bite before putting it down. “I hate Morris Delancey.”

“You know him?”

“Everyone knows the Delancey brothers. They’re awful. I was hoping Ella would beat Morris. I like Ella.”

“You’ll win.”

“He’s good.”

“You’re better.”

“Maybe.” Jack took a sip of water and shook his head, staring at his food. “They’re good at getting under my skin. Making me nervous or angry and distracting me from the fight.”

“You’re a better sword fighter than they are. You’ll win.”

“Thanks for your confidence, Davey, but that isn’t a given.” Jack fiddled with his collar. Davey realized he was actually playing with the silver chain of the dragon scale necklace.

Davey took his other hand and squeezed it, ignoring the fact that somebody could very easily see them.

They were going to a ball together in a week, people would know there was something between them soon enough. Who cared if they saw them holding hands?

“You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.”

The final fight was the absolute most incredible sword fight Davey had ever seen in his life.

Morris Delancey wasn’t as good as Jack at switching hands, but he could do it well enough to be fast enough to block Jack’s sudden switch hits. They both moved quickly, flying around the field, their feet seemingly barely touching the ground. The crowd was silent, leaning forward in their seats and watching the flashing swords.

When they passed in front of the royal box, Davey could hear them talking to each other. Not particularly loudly, just enough to be heard over the sound of their swords, but biting insults flew between them as quickly as they moved.

It was a long fight. Neither of them was willing to slow down or relax even a little bit. After almost fifteen minutes, they passed in front of Davey’s seat again, still talking.

“You haven’t beaten me yet, why would I let it happen now?”

“Because I’m better than you, Kelly.”

“Really? Because the record would seem to disagree.” Jack jabbed his sword forward and managed to hit Morris in the stomach. His armor stopped it, but it had obviously been a hard enough hit that he felt it.

Morris stepped back and disengaged. The tip of his sword moved in small circles in front of him and he watched Jack carefully. They circled each other slowly, catching their breath and watching for a break in each other’s defenses to start fighting again.

“Y’know, Morris, for somebody with such a high opinion of himself, you smell like you haven’t bathed in a couple’a months.”

“Funny. At least I own a bathtub.”

“Doesn’t do you much good if you don’t use it.”

“Still better than whatever bucket you use.”

“It’s the bucket on your head, didn’t you know? They asked to borrow it for the tournament.”

Davey had to stifle a little laugh at that.

It was true. Morris’s armor was a sleek interpretation of an owl done in metal so blindingly silver that it almost looked white. It wasn’t as strikingly obvious what animal he was supposed to be as Jack’s dragon, but, it worked. Other than the helmet, which really did look like a bucket with a square cut out for his face.

“I don’t have to cover my face to be considered attractive.”

“Neither do I, Morris, I just fully embraced the theme rather than giving up once I was mostly there. See, that’s the difference between you and me. I work until it’s done, you give up as soon as it’s passable. That’s why you’ll never beat me.” On the last word, Jack shot forward and their swords clashed, throwing the fight back into motion.

The next time they paused, Jack was the one who stepped back.

Both of them were breathing heavily at this point, and they both looked relieved at the break.

Again, they were close enough to Davey for him to hear what they were saying to each other.

“Winning won’t get you anything, you know, Kelly.”

“Why’s that, Morris?”

“You’re a nobody from nowhere.”

“Well, now, if you think that’s going to bother me, you’ve lost your edge.”

It had bothered him, but Davey saw him glance up at the royal box and shake his head slightly like he was physically shaking it off.

“We’ve all seen what you want, you know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“Oh please. Even now, you keep looking at him. You think Prince David would ever be seen with you? You think that whatever friendship you’ve struck up will last beyond your lessons together? You’re delusional.”

Jack looked up at Davey. He made eye contact, and Davey could see the question in his eyes. He nodded.

“Am I? It seems to me that I have a closer relationship with his highness than you do.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve caught his fancy for now, he’ll end up with one of us. Not a commoner.”

“You know what’s really funny, Morris? Only one of us is going to the ball with Prince David, and I’m pretty sure it isn’t you.”

“As if.” Morris’s face twisted into a snarl and he leaped forward to attack Jack again.

He was distracted. Davey could see it, and he had a feeling Jack was suddenly smiling under his helmet.

Morris made a mistake that Davey would have made. He left his left side open while swinging wildly towards Jack, and Jack effortlessly stepped away. His sword jumped from his left to his right hand and in a move so fast Davey could barely track it he hit Morris on the side and when Morris reacted, Jack’s sword whipped back around and Morris’s sword went flying to the side, twisting out of his grip and hitting the ground with a clatter.

Jack slid his sword into its sheath and stiffly stuck out his hand. To his credit, Morris did shake it, though Davey could tell he was gritting his teeth and would rather be doing anything else.

Jack took off his helmet and shook his hair out as they declared him the official winner for the fifth year in a row. He was grinning widely, and the crowd was cheering for him. It was the first time Davey had ever seen him look so comfortable at the center of attention.

He didn’t think he’d get to see Jack until at least the next day, so he was surprised when he was hit with a ball of energy wrapping around his neck and kissing his cheek in the shadows behind the arena where nobody else was yet.

“I won!” Jack laughed, almost dragging Davey to the ground.

“I know!”

“I told Morris that you’re taking me to the ball!”

“I know!”

“That means everyone will know by tomorrow!”

“I know!”

“It’s going to be a nightmare!”

“Probably!”

“But I won!”

Jack’s entire body was vibrating with excitement. Davey hadn’t really realized how important this tournament was to him, or how nervous he had been, but winning had filled him with more joy than Davey had ever seen in him before.

They didn’t have a long moment to spend together; Jack was whisked away by adoring fans calling his name after barely even brushing his lips to Davey’s, but it was a nice moment.

Davey wanted to see Jack that happy and excited every day for the rest of his life.

The rest of the week leading up to the ball was a bit of a whirl. The New Years Ball was the last night of the New Year celebration, and there were all kinds of other events in the week between the tournament and the ball. Davey wasn’t technically required to attend all of them, but he did. There was the festival in town, the baking competition, the feasts, all things that were very fun but they meant he wasn’t going to sword lessons and he wasn’t seeing Jack beyond a few minutes of conversation when they ran into each other.

He had been right about people knowing they were going to the ball together by the day after the tournament ended, though. Every time they talked, Davey saw people watching them. Usually with expressions like they’d just eaten something sour.

The night before the ball, Sarah waltzed into his room without knocking, looking very excited about something, which was usually bad news.

“I’m dressing Jack for the ball tomorrow,” she announced with no preamble. “He asked me today what he should wear. I need to know what you’re wearing so you can match.”

“Why do we need to match?”

“Because it’s cute, Davey, what are you wearing?”

Davey pointed at the outfit hanging up on the door of his dressing room.

It was a beautiful dark red tunic, made specially for this ball. The leggings to go underneath it were an even deeper shade of red, and both pieces of the outfit were covered in little golden embroidered details, mostly thin and delicate flowers and vines.

“Oh, perfect. I know exactly what I’m doing, then.” Sarah started to leave and paused at the door to turn back and look at him. “I’m going to make him so pretty people forget which one of you is the prince.”

And she did.

Jack was the last person to arrive in the little room where Davey and his family were waiting to enter the ballroom.

His outfit was dark blue, almost purple, with little silver details. Davey had never seen it before. He’d been kind of expecting Sarah to put Jack in something of his, but this looked brand new. The suit itself wasn’t all that special, though, it was the jewelry that made him look like a forest spirit more than a man.

He was normally a pretty person, but Sarah had turned him into the most beautiful person Davey had ever seen in his entire life, not just in a lovestruck way but in a very literal way.

The dragon scale necklace was hanging around his neck, flashing against the darker blue of the tunic. Davey had never noticed Jack wearing earrings before, but he had delicate chains dangling down from the tips of his ears, connected to tiny studs made out of some kind of blue gemstone that almost matched the dragon scale but didn’t quite manage to be as shifting and brilliant.

The sleeves on his tunic ended just above his elbows, and he had silver bracelets running up both arms like cuffs stretching from his wrists to about halfway up his forearm. The bracelets had veins of red running through them that matched the fabric of Davey’s tunic.

And his hair.

Davey was positive Sarah had enlisted somebody else’s help to tame Jack’s hair.

It was still curly, but rather than being a wild mane of loose curls or simply being put into a ponytail or a bun, about half of it had been pulled into small braids. Strands of silver ran through the braids, which practically formed a net to keep the rest of his hair out of his face. Davey wasn’t sure if it was some kind of silver jewelry or just silver threads, but the silver spilled out of his hair in little streams, and more blue and red gemstones brushed his shoulders.

It made it look like he’d somehow captured moonlight in his hair.

Sarah had done makeup on him, too, just enough that it was noticeable. He had silver brushed around his eyes, making them look even darker than usual, and just a touch of it on his cheekbones like he was blushing silver, too.

He looked like a fairy.

Davey couldn’t look away from him. Jack gave him a small, nervous smile before bowing his head towards Davey’s parents.

“That was quite a showing at the tournament, young man.” Davey’s father said warmly, clearly trying to put Jack at ease. “It isn’t often one as talented as you makes an appearance.”

“Five years in a row!” Les bubbled over. “That’s a record. And you invented that disarmament move! How did you do that?”

Jack laughed a tiny bit at that.

“Made it up on the spot. Your highness.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Les looked like he was contemplating leaping in Jack’s arms with how excited he was over sword fighting.

“I’m honestly not sure if I can do it again, your highness.”

Everyone in the room laughed, and Jack ducked his head. Davey was pretty sure it hadn’t been a joke, but it had served to break the ice pretty well.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’ll have to, everyone will want to learn it. Perhaps even David.”

“Oh, Mama, I’ll never be able to do that.”

“Seven months ago you never would have been able to last as long as you did in your fight. Anything is possible,” Sarah said. “Especially with the help of somebody as good as Jack.”

“Even I have my limits,” Jack said, looking much more relaxed now. “Prince David has improved, but not that much.”

“Hey!”

“He’s only telling the truth, Davey,” Sarah laughed, gently kicking Davey’s shins. “Frankly, it’s a miracle how far you’ve come already.”

When the double doors finally opened and the royal family was announced, Jack instantly retreated back into his nervous shell. Davey took his hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure him.

The beginning of balls were awkward, though. Most people just got to flood into the ballroom and start the party, dancing and talking and drinking and eating and enjoying themselves. The royal family and anybody attending with them had to spend a while sitting on a platform so people could come up and feel important because they got to have a three-sentence exchange with the king and queen.

Jack forced himself to appear relaxed in his seat, but he was clutching Davey’s hand for dear life, and when he smiled it was obviously forced.

When they finally got to step down and actually join the party, Jack looked tense enough to snap like a twig.

“That was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life,” he said quietly. “How do you stand everybody watching you like that?” He hadn’t let go of Davey’s hand, and it felt like he wasn’t planning to.

“That’s just how it’s always been. They’re always looking.”

Jack swiped a glass of champagne from a passing server and Davey had the distinct impression he was surprising a shudder as he drank it, like being watched had been so horrifying he had to drink to forget it.

“It’s like being a fish in a tank.”

“A little bit.”

Jack shook his head and put his now empty glass down on another tray passing by.

“Shall we…dance?” He said awkwardly.

“How romantic.” Davey smiled and took his other hand. He could feel Jack relax once they were facing each other, like it had shut everyone around them out and left just the two of them.

“Oh, pardon me for not entreating you on my knees to graciously offer me the honor of a dance, your royal highness. Shall I try again?”

“I suppose I’ll accept the first attempt, but you’ll have to do better in the future.”

Jack laughed and pulled Davey closer.

He was a much better dancer than Davey had expected. He should have guessed it, since Jack was so light on his feet and graceful when he fought, but Jack just didn’t really seem like somebody who would care enough about dancing to be good at it.

Their first dance was a relatively slow one, and neither of them really led, they just followed the music and had an easy conversation.

The second one picked up, and Davey was surprised when Jack took the lead, spinning him in and out and laughing. They were both out of breath by the end of it, and Jack was leaning into Davey like he’d exhausted himself.

“May I cut in, your highness?” Morris Delancey appeared out of nowhere with a smile on his face that was directly contradicted by the disgust in his eyes when he looked at Jack. Jack stiffly tilted his head and squeezed Davey’s hands before stepping back and letting Morris take his place.

“It’s a lovely ball, your highness, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“It was a bit of a surprise to see Jack accompanying you.”

“Was it?”

“Well, we expected you to take somebody more…”

“More what, Morris?”

“Well, you know. Jack isn’t exactly a member of the court.”

“Oh, no?” Davey did his best to keep his voice as completely bland as possible, but he was sure that if Morris looked up from their feet long enough he’d see ice in Davey’s eyes.

“He doesn’t come from here, you know. He comes from an orphanage.”

“I’m aware.”

“He’s a commoner.”

“And what does that have to do with his place here?”

“You know. Commoner’s never quite…fit in, do they?”

“My grandmother was a commoner, so I would be careful how you speak.” Davey lost the battle to keep his voice free of emotion, and it was more satisfying than he was willing to admit to see the brief flash of shame and fear that crossed Morris’s face.

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply anything about her majesty-“

“Perhaps you should simply say what you mean to say instead of referring to all commoners at once.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You haven’t.”

“I simply mean that Jack Kelly isn’t exactly of the caliber that people see fit for you, as a prince.”

“I was not aware that anybody other than myself decides who I court.”

“So he is courting you.”

“Yes. He is. If that upsets you, I’m afraid you shall just have to deal with your disappointment.”

“It isn’t my place to be upset.”

“You’re right. It isn’t. So perhaps you should stop attempting to convince me that somebody I know better than you is anything other than the man I know him to be.”

Morris didn’t look up from their feet or say anything else for the rest of the song.

Jack was right. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in far longer than was acceptable. Davey had never been as relieved to have a dance end.

“Looked like fun,” Jack slipped an arm through Davey’s and walked both of them towards a table piled high with desserts. “I’m sure he was charming as always.”

“Oh, for sure. He only managed to insult my grandmother and act like he had a say over what I do in the first minute of our conversation.”

Jack laughed and picked up a pastry.

“Oh, if only beating him in a sword fight was as easy as talking him into a corner.”

“Your job wouldn’t be very interesting, then.”

“Sure it would be. I’d get to fight somebody more fun to talk to than him. The best fights are the one with banter.”

“You seemed to be bantering with him while you fought.”

“No, I was making fun of him and he was cutting me down. Banter requires mutual respect. Of which there is none between me and Morris Delancey.”

Most of the ball was entirely uneventful. Morris’s brother, Oscar, got so drunk on wine and champagne that he practically had to be carried out of the ballroom by his brother, Sarah spent the night dancing with a girl Davey knew by sight but not by name, and he danced with Jack.

He danced with Jack all night.

At the beginning of the night, they’d danced very traditionally, hands clasped between them with practically enough space between their chests for a third person to slip in. That was how everyone started the night. Self-conscious, inhibitions intact, aware of the fact they were in a public space and anybody could be watching.

By the end of it, nobody cared. It was late, at least half the people there were tipsy at the very least, and people danced as close as they wanted to.

Jack had his arms wrapped around Davey’s waist, Davey had his arms looped around Jack’s neck, they were as close together as they possibly could be, and it was wonderful. Davey felt warm all over, like he’d spent the night wrapped in blankets by a fire and not dancing in front of everyone.

Well past midnight, people finally started to trickle out of the ballroom. At first, it was a couple here and there, young couples laughing and lost in their own worlds, wrapped around each other.

When the clock struck two, Jack pulled back a little bit.

“I should probably get to bed. I’m supposed to actually do stuff tomorrow.”

“Why would you ever agree to that?”

“I don’t know, somebody asked me if I’d come to the youngest kids’ lessons tomorrow and I said yes without thinking about it.”

“You’re too nice for your own good.”

“How could I ever let the kids down?”

“Well, at least walk me to my room.”

“Is that altogether proper, your highness?”

“Neither is the way we were dancing, Jacky, so I don’t think anybody will say anything.”

Jack laughed and let go of Davey’s waist in favor of offering him an arm.

“We’ll be the talk of the town in the morning, for sure.”

“We’re already the talk of the town. You’d think we were getting married in the morning.”

“We aren’t? Damnit, guess I have to return the outfit I had made for me.”

That made Davey laugh as they left the ballroom behind.

The hallways were completely empty once they were two turned corners away from the ball. Their quiet, happy conversation bounced off the stone walls and filled the space around them.

“Have you seen my room before?” Davey said when they got to his door.

He knew Jack hadn’t, unless he’d been to Davey’s room without Davey present.

“I can’t say I have, no.”

“Why don’t you come in, then? Not for long, you can go to bed soon.”

Jack hesitated, but when Davey opened his door, he gave a little shrug and followed Davey inside.

“Wow. When you said room, you meant apartment, huh?” Jack stopped just through the door and looked around the sitting room. “Unless you sleep on that couch.”

“No, the bedroom’s through that door there. The right is the washroom, and the left is the dressing room.”

“You don’t even need to leave.”

“Well, my shelf in here can only fit so many books. And if I never left, when would I ever see you?”

“Aw, am I the thing that keeps you from living in the library?” Jack laughed quietly and pulled Davey close to him. “I guess you really do love me more than your books.”

“Of course I do,” Davey said quietly, resting his arms on Jack’s shoulders like they were going to start dancing again. He leaned his forehead against Jack’s, and Jack’s eyes half-closed.

“You say that like it’s obvious,” Jack whispered.

“It is.” Davey kissed Jack and Jack wrapped his arms around his waist.

They’d been dancing close at the ball. Cheek to cheek, practically chest to chest.

There was no practically with this kiss.

Their chests were pressed completely together. Jack seemed to squeeze him tighter and tighter the longer this kiss lasted, and Davey was in no way complaining. He could kiss Jack for a thousand years and not get tired of it, of the way Jack held him and smiled against his mouth and pulled back just far enough to let out a tiny breath that brushed across Davey’s lips before Jack’s were there again.

He was glad his door was closed and the walls were thick when one of Jack’s hands ran through his hair, pulled his little crown off and tossed in the direction of the couch. It missed, clattered to the floor, and Davey couldn’t care less because Jack’s hand tangled in the hair falling onto his neck and his other arm pulled them impossibly closer together.

He was very glad for those thick walls and for the extra soundproofing from his wash and dressing rooms when he was laughing and pulling Jack backward into his bedroom and then both of them were laughing and falling into Davey’s bed and Jack’s hands were under Davey’s tunic on his bare skin and Davey’s hands tangled in Jack’s hair and they were kissing and kissing and suddenly there was barely any fabric covering either of them and Jack’s mouth was _everywhere_ and it was heady and fast and slow and sweet and Davey could barely keep track of it but every second of it was perfect and real and amazing.

Davey didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up completely tangled in Jack’s limbs. Jack’s hair was an absolute rat’s nest. Some of his braids had fallen out, others were hanging on, tangled with his loose curls. There were still strands of silver running through it, though there were also some on the floor with the gemstone beads that had been attached to them, and probably a few scattered under the covers. The morning sunlight made the silver glitter where it fell on the pillow.

Jack had one arm thrown across his eyes. A leg thrown across Davey’s.

Davey shifted. Jack moved. Davey stopped moving, and Jack rolled and curled into Davey’s side and tucked his face into Davey’s neck.

This was the most perfect moment.

It was so quiet and still. Jack was still asleep, relaxed against Davey and breathing evenly.

And maybe in a few minutes that would have to end. They’d have to get up, Jack would have to sneak away and hope nobody had noticed he’d never ended up back in his own room. Davey would have to put himself together and go about his day.

But right now it was quiet and still. Davey could kiss Jack’s head and smile at him without waking him up and it was perfect.

Just perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, hello, I'm Asper, this is a fic I wrote, I have a Tumblr, it's @simon-everhart, and that's that on that.
> 
> In other news, if you read this entire thing and don't feel strongly enough to leave a single word in a comment to tell me how you feel, I will wither up and die like the vine at the end of Veggietale's Jonah. I will sink into the ground and never be seen again. I will, quite simply, perish.
> 
> So please, please, please leave a comment. Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! I just want to know how you feel!


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